


Jim's Secret

by RandomFlyer



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: A different take on a world where Sentinels and Guides exist, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Blair is too nosy for his own good, Gen, Jim wants nothing to do with any of it, Spirit Guides, not sure how active this fandom is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2019-10-27 11:57:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 61,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17766368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomFlyer/pseuds/RandomFlyer
Summary: Jim Ellison knew exactly two things about being a Sentinel: first, that he was one and second, that he didn't want to be. He would do a lot to keep his secret from getting out, but when he gets landed with a Guide as a ride along keeping his secret becomes a lot more complicated. Please R&R





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own The Sentinel

                Jim took one last sweep of his apartment before shutting and locking the door with a dull thud. A place for everything and everything in its place, he’d checked several times before leaving to make sure that nothing was out of order, and everything neat and tidy for any observers to accidentally wander into his home. Then, he ensured the door was locked several times to prevent those strangers from wandering anywhere and seeing for themselves the pristine condition of his loft. He was a meticulous man by nature but the habit also came from necessity and long standing practice.

                Jim Ellison had a secret: he was a Sentinel. At least five of his senses were enhanced beyond the typical abilities of humans. He wasn’t sure how strong or talented a Sentinel he was, he’d never been tested. He didn’t know if he possessed an enhanced sixth sense like some sentinels did. He didn‘t even know if his career choice as a Cascade police detective was driven by the need and desire to protect others that was supposedly innate to the Sentinel character or if it was just him, Jim Ellison, that chose his own destiny. He hoped it was the latter.

                Jim headed down the stairs with a swift, careful tread that left little echo in his wake and headed out to his truck in the street. From the driver’s seat, he threw a brief glance back up to his loft window before turning back to the street and pulling out into traffic. It was still early in the morning and there were few cars on the road as he drove to the station. He made it a habit to get to work as early as possible and avoid morning rush hour traffic. As a Sentinel, he had no professional training and while he could usually control his senses, he tried to avoid any overwhelming situations if at all possible. A zone out or sensory spike would be a worse giveaway than the white noise generators, blackout curtains, dimmed lighting, and organic food in his apartment.

                In all honesty, Jim didn’t know much about being a Sentinel. True, there was information and institutions out there to help Sentinels in all stages of their abilities. He’d even discreetly looked over some of the materials when he first started to notice his talents several years before, but that was all he did. Jim didn’t want to attract attention to himself so his inquiries were vague and brief. He couldn’t afford for anyone to notice his interest and then notice him. As a result, Jim knew exactly two things for certain about the subject. One: that he was a Sentinel, and two: that he didn’t want to be.

                The background Jim learned from reading some of the pamphlets only confirmed his initial gut reaction to hold his secret close. Sentinels were rare and growing rarer with each year. Each year, fewer potentials were born, fewer developed their senses, and more seemed to die. The number of potential Guides born and maturing stayed the same and what once was a relatively even number had long since skewed with too many Guides and not enough Sentinels to go around. The Guides couldn’t explain it. As a result, institutions appeared to address the issue, meant to provide training and medical care as well as match Sentinels with appropriate Guides. At least, that ‘s what they advertised in the brochure. The sense Jim got from news clips, commercials, and the few Sentinels and Guides he’d seen walking around was one of more control than help and guidance. Sentinel preservation groups were more and more desperate to reverse the declining Sentinel numbers and Jim did not trust desperate people.

Jim pulled around the corner to the police station. As he entered the parking garage, he noticed an official-looking van idling in one of the front parking spaces. Printed on the side of the van was the acronym GSC in bold. Jim recognized the logo for the Guide and Sentinel Center, one of the premier research and education institutions for Sentinel studies in the northwestern United States, perhaps the entire country.

                 Eyes narrowed, Jim’s gaze lingered on the van as his truck rolled past. He took a steadying breath as he pulled into his own spot. The presence of some representatives from the GSC would add an additional layer of strain to the day, but Jim had no doubt he could evade detection. After all, no one expected a Sentinel to hide their abilities. Jim sometimes wondered how many other Sentinels were out there, pretending to be normal, hiding in plain sight. Probably more than anyone realized, but Jim knew better than to ask and expose them all to detection.

                Pulling into his parking space, Jim killed the engine. He took in a deep breath and held it for a moment, preparing himself for the day to come and centering his senses as best he could. If the department was hosting a group of Guides he was going to have to be extra careful. After running through a basic relaxation technique he’d found on the internet, he opened his eyes and climbed out of the truck.

                The garage was almost deserted as it was every morning when Jim arrived. He stepped onto the elevator and pushed for the seventh floor. Just as the doors were closing a voice called out to hold the elevator and he obliged by sticking a hand between the doors.

                The man that came running up to the doors was out of breath but smiling. His long curly hair was everywhere and his clothes were a little disheveled as he jumped into the car with Ellison.

                “Hey thanks, man,” the stranger said with another bright smile.

                He was shorter than Ellison and carried a beaten backpack over one shoulder. Jim’s first impression was college student. There was something more to the man, though. It was a gut feeling vaguely reminiscent of something described in brochures he’d read. Jim revised his original assessment from student to Guide. _Well crap._

                “Don’t worry about it,” Jim said, being sure to keep his face expressionless and forcing himself to focus on the movement of the elevator rather than the Guide standing next to him. “What floor do you need?”

                “Seven, Major Crimes. Oh hey, you’ve already got it pushed, that’s great!” The man bounced on his toes as the doors dinged closed. “You a detective up there?”

                Jim grunted an affirmative and shifted his feet so he was on the other side of the elevator. Even if the guy hadn’t been a Guide, his enthusiasm would have been wearing on Jim’s touchy senses. As it was the elevator wasn‘t big enough for the two of them.

                The near non-answer didn’t seem to dissuade the younger man,. He just shifted his hold on his back pack strap and continued. “I’m going to be working with you all up there for the next couple of weeks. Hi, I’m Blair Sandburg.” Sandburg stuck his hand out for Jim, an expectant look on his face.

                Jim looked at the outstretched hand for a moment before cautiously taking it, “Jim Ellison.”

                Dropping the hand as quickly as possible, Jim put all his focus in pushing everything back to normal levels. Jim knew even less about Guides than he did about Sentinels. He wasn’t sure if Guides could sense Sentinels with whatever talents they had, the way Sentinels could supposedly sense Guides. Personally, Jim had been in the same room as Guides before and they always seemed like normal people. This was the first time he sensed anything different and even now it was just a vague impression. Still, he didn’t want to take any chances. This was the closest he had probably ever been to a Guide and it was already wreaking havoc on his senses. Jim suddenly felt a great pang of sympathy for a criminal trying to ignore a cop standing right next to them.

                Hopefully, he wasn’t acting too strange to draw the Guide’s notice. Though, from the look Sandburg gave him after the hand shake Jim wasn’t so sure how well he had accomplished it. This guy was going to be around for a couple of weeks? _Double crap_ , Jim thought to himself. Maybe it was time to use those days of leave he had been saving.

                Luckily, the elevator came to a stop and the doors dinged open, giving him an avenue of escape. He hurried to his desk, leaving the younger man to find his own way to Captain Banks’s office. He could feel Sandburg’s eyes on him but was determined to ignore the Guide’s existence from that moment onward. With any luck, Sandburg would get assigned to something that had absolutely nothing to do with Jim.

 

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own the Sentinel

 

                Blair watched Jim Ellison move through the bullpen and settle down at a desk, all the while carefully avoiding eye contact or even a glance in Blair’s direction. In fact, it looked as though the detective had effectively dismissed Blair’s existence from the face of the earth. Still, Blair could feel the tension in Ellison, could even see it in the detective’s shoulders and posture.

                A quick sweep of the room showed Blair where Captain Banks’s office was located. Even as he weaved around the desks to the door, he kept one eye on Ellison, a perplexed frown growing on his face. There was something about the detective. If Blair didn’t know better he’d say the man was a Sentinel, judging from the vibes he was picking up, but there were no registered Sentinels working with Major Crimes at the moment. Granted that was why he was there, to observe the department and verify that no latent Sentinels were working in the department unaware of their own potential.

Blair could sense Sentinels in a way few others could. It was more akin to a sixth sense than anything else, a skill that was rare even among Guides. It was partly why he‘d been assigned to the job of locating and helping latent Sentinels find themselves and their own potential. Perhaps Detective Ellison didn’t realize what he was, but that didn‘t make sense either. The impression he received from Ellison was more of a full blown Sentinel, with fully realized sense but muffled and distorted, and that would be definitely noticeable, especially to a police detective. If that were the case, then the detective would have certainly reported it if only to get a Guide.

                Blair frowned again as he mulled it over. He’d have to talk to Captain Banks about it when he introduced himself. The only problem was Captain Banks wasn’t in yet. Blair realized it after a moment of staring at the drawn blinds and darkened room behind them. He turned around to look at the nearly deserted office and realized just how early he was. Somehow he’d pictured Captain Banks to be the early-to-the-office type and in his eagerness to start, hadn’t realized he’d arrived almost an hour early for his appointment.

                With nothing else to do, Blair glanced around the room. After a moment, he headed to the bathroom partly to kill time. A few minutes later he was back in Major Crimes with just as little to do as a before. He had the brief idea of striking up a conversation with Detective Ellison but the man was a block of unwelcoming ice bent over his paperwork. Grabbing an extra chair, he found by an empty desk he started going over the notes he prepared for the meeting with Captain Banks. He wasn’t sure of what kind of reception he’d get from the captain so he wanted to be as ready and professional as possible. True, the Guide and Sentinel Center in conjunction with Rainier University was invited to work out a program with the department, but that did not ensure he would be welcomed with open arms. He knew all too well that what the powers-that-be thought was a good idea did not always coincide with what those under their direction believed.

                The minutes ticked by and still the room remained just as empty as when Blair first arrived, the only other occupant being Detective Ellison who still refused to look up from his desk. Blair ran through his notes once, twice, and a third time for good luck. The study he was there to conduct was twofold. His primary reason was observe the department for any latent Sentinels that either had not come online or were just beginning to gain their talents. His secondary goal was to conduct research for a comparison between the law enforcement closed society and known Sentinel groups. He was hoping to discover if the protective instincts that were so typical of Sentinels could also be found in those without heightened senses. There was still quite a bit of debate within the academic world on just how much of a Sentinel’s behavior was due to genetics and how much was due to social expectations and learned behaviors.

                As Blair was mulling over the various points within the age old debate between nature and nurture, Blair failed to notice the figure approach to stand before him until a gruff voice roused him from his thoughts. “You must be Dr. Sandburg.”

                Blair looked up and up to the very tall, dark man standing before him. The man held a briefcase and was looking at him expectantly.

                “Ah, yes,” Blair jumped out of his seat and extended his hand, “You must be Captain Banks?”

                The man gave a short nod and a firm shake of Blair‘s hand. “Yes, why don’t we take this into my office?” he said before leading to the dark office.

                Blair followed as the captain flipped on the light and turned on the coffee maker, his nerves easing just a bit. The captain seemed polite enough if a bit on the gruff side, despite his intimidating size. 

                “Have a seat, Doctor. Why don‘t you tell me what you want with my department,” Captain Banks said, taking off his jacket and settling in behind his desk.

                Blair paused, “You haven’t been told why I’m here yet?”

                “Oh, I’ve been told, some academic-babble about studies and looking for Sentinels that don’t know they’re Sentinels, but I want to hear it from you, first, in plain English, preferably.”

                Oh, the captain wanted to get it from the horse’s mouth rather than second or third hand in some memo. Blair could do that. “Well,” Blair started, ordering his thoughts, “You must know that over the past several decades maybe even the past century the number of active Sentinels being born has been decreasing. In the past ten years, this decline has taken a noticeable plunge. According to studies, less than forty percent of the amount of Sentinels are being born today than fifty years ago. Then add to that the death rate of Sentinels has risen and fewer are coming fully online than before and you have a severe decrease in functioning Sentinels in general.”

                Captain Banks nodded, showing he understood the current situation. The decline had hit police stations harder than most areas of life and crime rates had risen in the past few years as more Sentinels retired or died with no one to take their place.

                Blair continued, his hands illustrating the explanation, “There has been some speculation that the increase in synthetic chemicals and medicines has had some impact in the birth, development, and lifespan of Sentinels, but there‘s just not enough evidence to prove one way or another at the moment. Other theories have stated that the increase in technologies that can mimic Sentinel abilities have made Sentinels obsolete and are therefore being weeded out of the gene pool. Though, how that could happen within such a short amount of time, considering how long it takes for the genetics of a population to change, especially in a species as long living as Homo sapiens is anyone’s guess.”

                “And what does this have to do with your study?” Banks, interrupted, not seeing how the genetic development of the human race had anything to do with his department.

                Blair looked up, “What? Oh, it doesn’t, not directly. This is just background for the reasons behind the program that the GSC developed.”

                “Mind keeping it to the topic?” Banks said with a sigh and small scowl, his shortening patience showing on his face.

                “No, not at all,” Blair said, reminding himself he probably didn’t want to get on this man’s bad side first thing on his first day. “You see, while Sentinel birth and survival rates have dropped, Guide birth rates have not. In fact, I believe it’s estimated that for every Sentinel, active and online at this moment, there are over five Guides ready and waiting for a Sentinel. Then, there’s the fact that there are far less concrete requirements to be a Guide. With the proper training, almost anyone could become an adequate Guide for a Sentinel so long as the two individuals have the right rapport. Though, there are some schools of thought that say there are more subtle traits which aid…”

Blair trailed off noticing the growing scowl on the captain’s face. “But that’s not important. Just knowing that there are not enough Sentinels, you can see the problems that this will cause, is causing. So, we’ve started to look more carefully into the areas that would normally attract a Sentinel as a career, police departments, search and rescue, fire departments, the military, etc. We think that there may be quite a few Sentinels out there that are latent and haven’t come online yet, probably for the same reason why less have been born with the ability all together.”

                “And you hope that by finding them, you can prod their talents to come out and ease some of the shortage of Sentinels, right?” Banks finished for him.

                Blair bobbed his head, glad the man caught on so quickly. “It’s possible that something new in modern life is repressing the Sentinel abilities so they may need extra encouragement to appear. That’s why Guides have been sent out to the various departments as observers in hopes of finding these latent Sentinels. If their talents do appear later on in life then they could have more serious problems adjusting than if they were coaxed into coming out earlier. In the end, it’s better for everyone.”

                Banks nodded, a slow thoughtful movement, eyes fixed somewhere over Blair’s head. “And having a few online Sentinels in the department would help ease the work load quite a bit,” he added almost to himself. “What about the other part?”

                “I was hoping to use some of my observations as a comparison between closed societies, specifically those of Sentinel groups and non-Sentinel groups with the same goal. Like I said, there just aren’t as many Sentinels for we Guides nowadays and many of us have been broadening our areas of expertise. I’m also a professor of Anthropology at Rainier University, since I haven’t been able to find my Sentinel yet.”

                 Banks nodded, leaning back in his chair for a moment. “Alright, go and get your observer pass from Vera. She‘s down the hall. I’ll arrange for a detective to be your official liaison. Just make sure you don’t get in the way and you should be fine. In fact, it would be a big help if you could find some latent Sentinels in the department.”

                Blair couldn’t help the large smile that broke out over his face. That had been much easier than he had anticipated. As he stood up preparing to leave a thought struck him. “Actually sir, would it be possible for Detective Ellison to be my liaison? We met earlier today.”

                “Ellison?” Banks repeated a slight hint of disbelief in his tone, “Are you sure? I mean, don’t get me wrong, Ellison is a decent man, honest and trustworthy. He’s the best detective I have, but the man is an iceberg. He likes his privacy, always keeps to himself. He’s not going to be the friendliest liaison to have.”

                Blair hesitated, a small pang of doubt suddenly flashing through him. Did he really want to be landed with an iceberg for the duration of this study? But then he remembered the strange feeling he received from the man. There was something off about him and if it had anything to do with Sentinels then it was Blair’s job to find out. “That doesn’t matter, I’m sure we’ll get along just fine,” Blair said, a smile fixed on his face.

                “Alright, he doesn’t have a partner at the moment so he would be a good choice in that respect, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Banks stood up and showed Blair to the door, pointing him in the direction of Vera’s office before calling Detective Ellison in to see him.

                Blair threw one last glance at Ellison catching the detective’s eyes for a brief moment. There it was again, that strange sense coming from the man, suppressed but there nonetheless as Ellison cut his gaze away and entered the captain’s office. Blair turned back toward the direction Banks had indicated and went to start his paper work. He’d have to keep an extra eye on Ellison.

 

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own the Sentinel.

 

                Jim was surprised the door didn’t shatter, considering how hard he’d shut it on his way out of Simon’s office. Not that he would have minded, at the moment he was furious. He was furious with Simon for saddling him with a liaison whose sole purpose was to watch them like lab rats for a study. Though, more than that, he was furious that he was going to have to work up close and personal with a Guide when he didn’t want to even be in the same room with a Guide. Of course, Simon couldn’t know that since Simon didn’t know what Jim was and that just made Jim angry and frustrated.

                Going back to his desk, Jim sat down and glared at the paper work remaining in front of him, unable to concentrate on it anymore. Taking a deep breath in, Jim closed his eyes and attempted to calm down. He could already feel his tentative control beginning to slip and with a Guide in the building that was doubly dangerous. He had to get himself back under control before Sandburg came back and the bullpen started filling up for the day.

                Making a quick decision, Jim jumped out of his chair and grabbed his jacket. He wasn’t going to be able to regain control in the office, worrying that the Guide might return from his paperwork spree at any moment. He had to get out of there, at least for a little while.

                Jim started heading for the elevator but stopped when he remembered how close it came to Vera’s desk. He didn’t know anything about a Guide’s ability and did not want to risk getting too close to Sandburg right now. So, he turned an about face and headed for the stairs. The added physical activity would help calm him anyway. Several minutes later, he arrived at the parking garage and headed for his truck. He wasn’t entirely sure where he would go, someplace quiet where he could collect himself.

                Jim drove, taking a few streets until he found himself at the park between his home and the station. He pulled into a parking spot and killed the engine. Sitting there for a moment, Jim turned on the radio to an AM station filled with static, turning it down till it was inaudible to normal hearing. It wasn’t perfect, but it had roughly the same effect as some white noise generators, blocking out the minor noises from the growing traffic around him. He sat there for a while, not paying attention to the time, just focusing on his breathing and calming exercises.

                Earlier in his life, Jim had not taken stock in any new-age meditation mumbo-jumbo, but all that changed when his heightened senses appeared and he became increasingly desperate to regain self control. He’d started looking into calming and relaxation techniques as almost a last resort and found they actually worked for everyday problems. Now, he meditated regularly as one of the only ways to maintain a tight control on his overactive senses. He knew some other lone Sentinels, not wanting a Guide and hiding from the GSC, turned to medications and drugs to dull the sensory input bombarding them. Jim didn’t want anything to do with that method of coping. All too often, it led to a world of dependence and addiction which was no better than handing his life over to a Guide would be. So he threw his pride and skepticism into the wind and picked up meditation.

                Finally, feeling himself calm down and regain his center, all levels at normal and under tight control, Jim opened his eyes and checked the clock. He’d been gone just over an hour, not too long, but he’d better be getting back to the station before anyone started asking questions. Plus, he still had to meet with his new liaison and straighten out any issues they might have.

                Jim groaned to himself, thinking about the Guide he was going to have to work with for the next few weeks. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad. If the kid was going to be observing the entire department then he wouldn’t be hanging around Jim the entire time. Jim could even send the kid off on tasks, find ways to keep Sandburg busy and away from him until the study was done and Sandburg gone for good. If the kid put up a fuss, Jim could be a bastard better than most people and if push came to shove he’d just make the Guide want to leave him alone. Yeah, that’s what he’d do. He pulled out into traffic and headed back to the station, determined to maintain control and his cover. Things would be just fine, Jim repeated to himself despite every instinct screaming the contrary.

                When he arrived back at the bullpen Jim found the morning shift almost entirely there and already starting on the day’s work. Sandburg was already sitting by his desk with a spare chair, going over a large stack of papers. He looked up as Jim approached and broke into that wide smile of his.

                “Hello again! Looks like we’re going to be working together,” Sandburg said in a bright voice matching the wide grin on his face.

                Jim just glared, grunting in response as he slipped out of his jacket and hung it up on a peg. He maneuvered around Sandburg and settled into his seat, careful not to touch the Guide. “Just don’t get in the way,” he growled as he went back to his paperwork. The ill-temper seemed to have no effect on the kid whose eyes remained on Jim for few extra seconds before flashing another bright smile with a shrug and returning to the stack of forms. Jim smothered a frustrated sigh, he was going to have to play hardball if he was going to get the Guide to stay away from him, but that was alright. By the end of the week, the Guide wouldn’t want anything to do with him and they could both go their separate ways.

                The silent paperwork continued for another few hours without any conversation. Sandburg tried to throw out a few “getting to know you questions”, but Jim squashed every attempted with stony silence or monosyllabic answers. He didn’t even look at the Guide when he did answer, just kept his head bent down over the paperwork and focused on his reports. It was a slow day, preceded by a slow week and the only thing left for the department to do was paperwork. Jim didn’t usually wish for cases, considering that usually meant something bad had happened to someone along the line, but at the moment he’d give anything for a good murder to get out of the bullpen and away from the man sitting next to him, the man who was once again trying to engage him in friendly conversation.

                “Man! I can’t believe how much paperwork this is creating. You’d think a job as exciting as police work would have a little less paperwork… but, then again, I guess the exciting parts would have to be balanced out by equally boring parts. You know? Every force is met with an equal and opposite one?” Blair chuckled to himself before continuing.  “Did you think you’d be stuck in so much paperwork when you first started this job?”

                Jim didn’t bother hiding his eye roll, in fact he made it a little bigger than strictly necessary. Unfortunately, Sandbug didn’t see it as he was still bent over the stack of forms. “There’s paperwork wherever you go, kid.”

                Sandburg laughed, ignoring the rough and sarcastic tone in Jim’s voice. He even ignored Jim calling him a kid, again, even though he’d specifically asked Jim not to call him that since he was nearly thirty. “Ain’t that the truth! I got into anthropology looking forward to expeditions and exploring new cultures. I never would have dreamed how much paperwork teaching and research creates _and_ that‘s not counting all the papers I‘ve written. That stuff I expected, it’s the forms I didn’t see coming.”

                Jim just grunted, hoping that would end the conversation. He glanced at the clock and almost groaned when he saw it wasn’t even lunch yet. The day couldn’t possibly drag by any slower he grumbled to himself. To make things worse he could feel a killer headache developing in the back of his head, probably from the constant effort of keeping everything in such tight control, tighter than normal, even. He spared a glance over to Sandburg hoping that his dismissive attitude was at least having some effect, but the kid was as relaxed as ever, leaning back in his chair as he twirled a pencil between his fingers, going over a paper filled with writing.

                This was going to be a _very_ long day.

 

TBC…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own the Sentinel.

 

**Chapter 4**

            Blair forced back a sigh as yet another attempt at engaging the detective in conversation failed miserably. The floor seemed unusually calm, if the bored expression on many detectives’ faces was anything to go by. They chatted with each other and visited desks as they seemed to work their way through a day of paperwork. The low buzz of conversation permeated the office except in the corner where Ellison’s desk was situated. That area seemed to be a proverbial dead zone of social interaction. No matter what approach Blair took it was always shot down, by a grunt, short reply, or silence. Banks had said Ellison was an iceberg, but this was ridiculous. It was like the man was deliberately trying to be unpleasant. Blair was very good at reading people, even for a Guide and many of them could be consider empathic, and he wasn’t buying the cold bastard routine. The impressions coming off of Ellison were so muddled and confused Blair knew there had to be more to the story. It was the only thing that allowed him to keep up his unconcerned and carefree front.

            Those impressions were distorted and muffled like everything else Blair was getting from the detective, as though they were coming through a dense fog that obscured and twisted them, hiding their true nature. Blair didn’t know what to make of it. He’d never encountered anything like it before in all his years as a Guide. It only brought up more questions. He’d have to look into past cases of Sentinel medicine to see if there’d been any similar cases previously recorded.

            Blair was just about to try another conversation starter, however futile, when the phone on Ellison’s desk rang. It barely got off the first buzz before the detective snatched it off the cradle.

            “Ellison,” the detective barked without even looking at the phone.

            Ellison listened for a few seconds before nodding his head and saying, “I’ll be right there.” Hanging up the phone, he stood and reached for his jacket. Blair stood in response getting ready to follow wherever his temporary “partner” led. He wasn’t letting Ellison out of his sight if he could help it.

            “Where are we going?” Blair asked, shoving papers into his backpack.

            “ _I’m_ going down to a murder. _You_ are staying right here, you’re not authorized to come along to crime scenes.” Ellison grabbed his badge and service weapon and headed for the elevator without a backward glance at the stunned man behind him.

            It took a moment before Blair could recover and follow the detective. “You can’t leave me behind! I’m your partner!”

            Ellison jerked to a stop and spun around in one motion, coming up into Blair‘s personal space. “Let’s get one thing clear, Chief. We are not partners. I don’t have a partner.”

            “You’re my liaison, then,” Blair cut in before Ellison could go any farther. “I’m here so I can make observations for a study approved by _your_ boss and I can’t observe anything by sitting at a desk.” This was not entirely true. He could make plenty of observations just by sitting in the bullpen, but that wouldn’t help him stick with Ellison.

            Jim wasn’t buying it, though. “You’re here to observe the entire department, interactions within the group or something. You can’t do that if you stick with one detective the entire time. You’re not coming.” Then Ellison turned again and stormed toward the elevator, opening the doors with a push of the button.

            “I also need to see how your department and others interact with each other. I’m not going to be able to do that from one office floor,” Blair protested, following him to the elevator.

            “Not my problem. You’re still not cleared to go to active crime scenes. If you don’t like it, talk to Simon.” With that the doors slid closed, cutting off the conversation without another word.

            Blair glared at the double metal doors. He hadn’t thought that Ellison had been paying that much attention to focus of his study. Damn. He’d have to talk about this to Captain Banks. He didn’t want to tell anyone about his suspicions until he had proof of anything but it looked like he didn’t have much of a choice. If Ellison did have latent Sentinel abilities and they came online suddenly he could get himself or someone else hurt or worse. It was too much of a risk. Blair spun around and headed to Simon’s office. Maybe he could talk the captain into letting him in the field without revealing any of his suspicions. It was worth a try.

* * *

 

            Jim climbed into his truck, slamming the door closed with more force than necessary, making his headache throb painfully for a moment before he pushed it down. He glanced over the cab as per habit, ensuring everything was the way he had left it only a few hours ago. Pulling up to the exit from the parking garage Jim glance right checking oncoming traffic only to find himself staring into a mirroring blue gaze. He rolled his eyes in exasperation before craning his neck to see around the large black feline that now sat in his passenger seat.

            “What do _you_ want?” Jim nearly growled, sounding very much like a panther himself.

            The large cat didn’t answer, it never did. It merely sat and stared at him with a knowing gaze. When the panther had first appeared to Jim, shortly after the surfacing of his senses, he hadn’t known what to make of it. He didn’t know if other Sentinels saw animals that no one else could see or if it was something particular to him, like insanity. He had heard somewhere something about spirit guides looking over Sentinels and Guides as a rule, but wasn’t sure how much he believed it. Either way, he saw the cat and worse, the cat knew he could see it.

            Since then, the cat had appeared to him many times. Usually there was a reason, some danger to avoid, a threat to handle, or decision to make. Other times it seemed like the cat just appeared for no better reason than to harass him. In the past couple of years, though, it had become more of a comfort than anything else. Jim would never admit it, especially to the fur ball, but, much like taking up meditation, he’d gotten to like having the spirit around sometimes. If he could get by with his meditation and an oversized housecat stopping by to stare at him, then, hopefully, he could avoid the unwanted addition of the GSC and all the strings that came with it.

            Jim threw another glance at his passenger while stopped at a red light. “If this is about that Guide back at the station, you can forget about it,” he said, continuing their nonexistent conversation. Did talking to spirit animals count as talking to himself?

            The panther lowered its head ever so slightly.

            “You remember what happened to that guy across the street when they found out he was a Sentinel?” Jim asked the cat, feeling it could use a reminder of the real world, “They forced him to move out of his apartment and into some Sentinel nursing home that was “safe” according to them. ‘For his own good’ they said, his own good my ass. No one ever saw him again.”

The panther merely continued to stare, but Jim didn’t notice. He was focusing on driving through the pot-hole ridden streets of Cascade’s “troubled” district. Besides, he had gotten used to the one-sided conversations.

Jim let a moment of silence drag out in the cab as he looked for the correct address. Spotting it he slowed the truck to a stop. “I don’t know exactly how things work in your little spirit jungle world, but here in real life it’s more complicated than that. If you don’t like it, find yourself another Sentinel,” and with that Jim killed the engine and slid from the truck. A quick scan of the passenger’s seat, though, showed it was empty. Jim shook his head and started up the walk to the house now crawling with uniforms.

_Damn cat_.

Jim could smell the blood before he even reached the door, one maybe two victims, upper floor. Jim took a moment to prepare himself before going into the house. Everything felt relatively in control besides the headache lingering in the back of his skull, but he wasn’t going tempt fate by charging into a fresh crime scene. He took the opportunity to get a good look around the outside of the house and make some initial observations. The yard was patchy with dirt and dry grass, bits of rusted tools peeking out from the dry tufts. The lopsided porch was splintered and peeling a dirty white paint that matched the general state of the door. The windows were old and dirty around the edges from months of semi neglect.

The air floating through the open door hung with mildew, dry rot, dust, and a heavy over layer of blood. Still, he’d been to worse crime scenes, places next to ripe dumpsters and in abandoned buildings used as outhouses by the local bums. Jim could handle this; it would just take concentration like everything else. Taking a slow breath and double checking the dials one last time, Jim stepped into the house with a short nod to the officer guarding the door.

            The inside was much the same as the out, with old, worn furniture and a drab atmosphere. The curtains hung limp in faded colors and the couch swayed in the middle, its fabric covering wrinkled and oversized. An old TV with a cracked frame stood in the corner on an equally old stand. To one side, there was a bookshelf with a set of home repair and cook books, but the layer of dust didn’t provide much hope for their being used. His eyes picked up everything from the rag rug lying stained and crooked on the floor to the dirt and grime in the corners of the room. To the left a narrow set of stairs ran to the second floor and he could tell the scent of blood originated from that direction.

            Jim followed the scent to the main crime scene in a small bed room on the second floor. Two bodies, a young woman and man, lay haphazardly on the floor and across the bed, gunshot wounds decorating each. The spray was staining the faded wall paper while the thin carpet and old bed displayed two large pools of sticky blood. With the two windows closed tight, the smell was nearly overwhelming in the cramp room. It made Jim want to gag and choke, but he forced himself to breath the metallic air normally, focusing his attention to scanning the room for any clues to the perpetrator.

            Notwithstanding the blood and bodies, the room looked no better than the rest of the house.  Kneeling down by one of the bodies Jim bent to get a look under the bed, checking for anything missed by the initial sweep. A glint in the corner caught his eye and he focused in on it, craning his head to see better. It was metal and small, a long thin needle partially sticking into the carpet from where it dropped on the other side of the bed. It looked as though the girl may have dropped it from her place on the bed…

            BAM.

            The sudden noise of someone stumbling on the narrow stairs jerked Jim from his knees. He blinked in the suddenly bright room as he realized what had happened while trying to covered up his start by fiddling with his gloves. He’d zoned on the needle. It hadn’t been deep or long, but he couldn’t deny it was a zone. Jim discreetly checked around him to see if anyone had notice. The lack of attention directed his way did little to calm his nerves. If the clumsy officer on the stair hadn’t tripped, he could have gone deeper, perhaps fallen over and passed out and that would definitely have attracted attention.     

Jim hadn’t had a serious zone out for almost a year and never in public. Still, it was a constant balancing act, small things like this only served to remind him how careful he had to be. For a brief moment Jim almost wished he could get a guide, if only to not have to worry about it anymore, allow himself to rest and know someone would help look out for small dangers like needles hidden under beds at crimes scenes. Jim pushed the idea away immediately. There was no point dwelling on it since it wouldn’t happen. Who was it that said “those who give up their freedom for some safety deserve neither’? He wasn’t entirely sure, but he did know one thing, they weren’t taking his freedom from him, not while he still had a say.

            From the corner of his eye, Jim thought he saw a long black tail move behind the bed, but he ignored it. Instead, he focused on the pounding through his skull. He took a deep breath, held it and slowly let it out, turning down the pain until it was a dull throb in the background. The pain wasn’t gone, and he knew he’d have to deal with it later, but for now he could focus on the job at hand. Jim bent his head to the crime scene and started his work. If he was lucky and careful he could get out of there relatively quick and then maybe go listen to some more static on the AM channel by the park. Either way, he wasn’t planning on going back to the station and the curly haired trap-spider waiting at his desk anytime soon.

TBC…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own the Sentinel.

**Chapter 5**

                Blair looked up from his place at Ellison’s desk for the fifth time in the last fifteen minutes, hoping the footsteps he heard were Detective Ellison returning from his crime scene. He frowned when he saw it was only some other hapless detective staggering under a pile of files. The excitement of running into a likely candidate for a Sentinel on the first day, hell, the first ten minutes of him being in the building had quickly worn off when Captain Banks explained why they couldn’t have some untrained academic running around live crime scenes and possibly contaminating evidence.

                “I’ll be really careful!” Blair found himself promising, like some kid begging his dad to handle his prize baseball autographed by Babe Ruth.

                Banks only shook his head, “Doesn’t matter, you know how clever criminal defense attorneys can be? They find one little thing that could have gone wrong with evidence collection and there’s the case down the drain, and it‘s been getting worse in the last couple of years. You can do your research just fine here in the office and then, later on if, and only if, you’ve proven yourself trustworthy, you might be able to go out to a few crime scenes and take a gander or observe or whatever you anthropologists do.”

                Blair could see nothing was going to change the police captain’s decision, but he had to try anyway. Biting his lip he threw caution into the wind. “But I think Jim Ellison himself might be a latent Sentinel. How can I verify that if I can’t see him in action?”

                That caught Banks’s attention. “Jim? Is that why you were so interested in having him as a liaison?” Banks shook his head. “Hate to tell you this, kid, Jim took those Sentinel aptitude tests before going into the academy just like everyone else, failed every one. Besides that, he’s got to be one of the most insensitive men I know.”

                Blair choked back a sigh of exasperation only just managing not to throw his hands in the air. “Being a Sentinel does not mean you’re going to be sensitive emotionally and Detective Ellison has one of the highest closure ratings in the department. He’s been cop of the year for the past four years! Shouldn’t that indicate something?”

                “It indicates that Ellison knows how to do his job and is a good detective.” Simon snapped back, his earlier sarcastic joke going unnoticed, “There have been detectives with excellent closure rates before that weren’t Sentinels. It is possible, you know.”

                Blair shook his head. “That isn’t what I meant. I just meant that it could be additional proof that there might be another reason why his closure rate is so high.”

                “Doesn’t matter,” Banks said, dismissing the fact, “I’m still not going to let you jeopardize the chain of evidence by tramping around open cases like some wild life observer on the Discovery Channel! If you think he‘s a Sentinel you can observe him just fine here in the office. It‘s not as though he could turn that sort of thing off and on like a light switch, right?”

                Blair gritted his teeth and muttered a reluctant agreement. If Jim really was a Sentinel, especially a latent one, he would not be able to control when his acute senses came into play, not without a Guide. Nevertheless, Blair was still silently fuming about it an hour later as he waited for the detective to return. He wasn’t sure how long inspecting crime scenes usually took, probably several hours at least. He was just being impatient, Jim wouldn‘t be back for a while yet. He should be using this time to observe the other members of Major Crime. If there was one, perhaps there were two Sentinels. He’d be ecstatic if there were two. It was possible. It had happened before. Blair looked around the room at the surrounding detectives willing himself to pick up anything that could indicate a Sentinel. Or he could be overestimating his luck for the first day.

                Blair glanced back to the door in another attempt to will the Detective back to the bullpen. It didn’t work, much like the five previous attempts. Leg bobbing up and down, Blair forced himself to focus back on the notes he had begun making. With the paper work completely done and Detective Ellison not around to talk to, Blair had begun the observational notes for his study, or at least attempted. He was finding it very difficult to concentrate on the social interactions within the department when he had a potential Sentinel under his very nose. The observations he managed to put down were general and so common they were practically useless to either aspect of his study. A quick tour of the bullpen to introduce himself proved how closed a society the police department could be. Many of the detectives were polite, some not so much, but all were just as displeased to have him there as Detective Ellison. He’d have to work to gain their trust if he was really going to learn anything.

                Tapping his pen against his note book, Blair let out an exasperated sigh. On the desk Ellison’s phone rang and went to voicemail. Blair stopped and stared at it. He _was_ sitting Ellison’s desk. With a quick glance around, Blair opened a few drawers, scanning the insides as quickly as possible. He wasn’t really invading the detective’s privacy, just taking a quick look. Still, he didn’t want to explain to anyone why he was looking through their coworker’s desk.

                Not that it would have made any difference. The closest articles Blair found that could be considered personal were a large bottle of aspirin, a dark pair of sun glasses, and a box of ear plugs. All of which could indicate Ellison was having difficulty with unpredictable sense but could also be explained by Jim’s occupation. Headaches would be no stranger to a stressful job such as police work. Many people owned sunglasses, and detectives all spent time on a firing range using ear plugs. Other than that there were no pictures, no personal items, nothing that indicated a life outside work.

                Blair winced as he closed the last drawer harder than he intended to, looking around to see if anyone noticed. A few people glanced in his direction, but none commented. With nothing left to do, Blair turned to Ellison’s computer. Perhaps he could find something about the strange vibes he was picking up from the detective on the internet. Opening the browser, he glanced at the clock and bit back a groan. It was barely lunch time. This was going to be a long day. 

* * *

                Jim dragged himself into his loft. Only ingrained habit ensured the keys landed in their basket and the door bolted behind him before he fell onto the couch. It was hardly past five in the afternoon but he was exhausted. The crime scene had taken hours to process, though the crime itself seemed straight forward enough. It was the large amount of evidence they found that took most of the time, beginning with the nine bullets buried in the walls and floor and ending with the two large bags of cocaine they found hidden in the attic. Now it was just a matter of finding the person responsible, something easier said than done in most cases.

                After finishing at the crime scene Jim returned back to the precinct to look after the necessary red tape that went with opening an investigation. Sandburg was still in the Bullpen. Jim checked before he went near it, so Jim stayed away. He went to evidence, the lab, he even stopped by the morgue, his least favorite place in the building, and double checked that everything related to the case got where it was supposed to be. When he ran out of other departments to visit and Sandburg was still at his desk waiting, Jim left. He called it a day and drove home.

                Finding the drugs in the attic hadn’t been too much of a surprise. The area was known to have a problem with drugs and gangs. If they were lucky they would be able to trace it back to its origins and shut down some of the trafficking going through the area. The discovery also brought Vice into the mix and while Jim didn’t usually like sharing his cases with anyone, in this instance he was glad. It gave him a chance to stay away from his desk and Sandburg. Vice would also take a chunk of the workload and he wouldn’t have to run himself ragged and risk slipping up in front of Sandburg. Besides, he was dead tired, keeping his senses at an average level seemed to take an extra effort with the Guide around and he‘d only spent a few hours in the man‘s company.

                Jim flipped off his shoes before pulling his legs up on the couch. He wondered if it was normal for Sentinels to have trouble controlling their senses around Guides. Maybe it was a subconscious thing, knowing they had someone to bring them back if they went too far. He thought he remembered reading somewhere that the subconscious played a big role in Sentinel behaviors. One thing was certain, he was going to need to get more information. In this case, not knowing could tip his hand and get him in serious trouble. The department had strict regulations concerning Sentinels going out into the field without a Guide. The disciplinary ramifications he’d receive from the department would only be the start of his troubles if he was discovered. He had to find out more about Sentinels and especially Guides if he was going to avoid drawing attention.

                The curtains were still drawn from the morning and the lights still out, throwing the room into darkness despite the early hour. A huge yawn stretched Jim’s mouth. All he wanted to do was take a moment to rest, but he knew he’d be up in ten minutes from the ever constant noise of the city around him. So, Jim forced himself off the couch and pulled out a few white noise generators and placed them around the room, particularly near the windows. That done, he lowered himself back on the couch.

                The digital clock showed 5:30 from its display in the DVD player. Jim frowned at the bright red glow before tossing a pillow over to cover the display. For a brief moment, he thought about Sandburg still sitting at Jim’s desk waiting for him to come back. Jim felt a small twinge of guilt at the thought, but quickly brushed it aside. The kid was supposedly smart. He’d find something or someone else to occupy his time. Plus, if he got mad enough about being ditched on the first day maybe he’d ask for another liaison and Jim wouldn‘t have to deal with him so much. Somehow, Jim didn’t think it would be that easy to get rid of his new observer. Still, he could hope.

                Giving up on the whole line of thought, Jim closed his eyes and settled into a familiar breathing pattern. He’d deal with the Guide later. First, he’d get a few hours sleep then do a little research into Guides and whatever freaky powers they had. If he timed it right, he could get to the library just before it closed when no one was around except sleep deprived college students. Jim vaguely recognized the dark outline and glowing blue eyes of a large cat lounging on the coffee table before drifting to sleep.

* * *

                 Blair slammed the van door, for once not caring about the abuse on the borrowed vehicle. He pulled out the key, jammed it into the ignition and over turned the engine before stopping himself. Breaking off the key wouldn’t help anything, neither would driving off into traffic in his current state. Grabbing the steering wheel with both hands, he forced himself to take a deep breath and slowly release it.

                The day was one of the longest and most frustrating Blair experienced in while. After a promising and exciting morning the day quickly turned into an exercise in futility, starting with Ellison ditching him before the day really began. Then, when it became apparent the detective wasn’t returning anytime soon, Blair had tried to interact with some of the other detectives, getting next to nowhere in the close-knit group. As a final effort, he tried helping out with a few computer problems on the floor and suddenly found himself regulated to “computer repair man”. One problem led to another and before he knew it, it was well past quitting time. True, it got him farther in his observations than “nosy outsider” but not by much. Now it was half past nine o’clock and he had nothing to show for the entire day except for a floor of updated computers. At least Simon would be happy.

                Feeling calmer, though no less frustrated, Blair finally deemed himself fit to drive home. A quick glance at the clock and Blair changed his mind. If he hurried, he could make it to the library twenty minutes before it closed at ten. The information he’d gotten from the internet, while abundant, was also highly suspect. The field of Sentinel studies had its share of crack pots, more even, since there were still aspects of Sentinels’ and Guides’ abilities and relationship that were unexplained. Added in combination with the uncensored and free nature of the world wide web and you were left with more false and inaccurate information than Blair was willing to sift through. He’d found a few legitimate looking papers, but the library would have more reliable sources.

                Decision made, Blair hung a left leaving the parking garage. The streets were quiet at that time of night and it wouldn’t take him too long to get to the library. If he just pulled everything he could find on Sentinel medicine and empathic readings then he would have time to go over it later in his apartment. Blair glanced over his shoulder into the rear compartment as he sped through a green light and empty intersection. He had plenty of room. He just had to worry about the maximum limit of books he could take out at once. Blair shrugged to himself as he pulled into the library parking lot. The yellow street lights shown down on the almost deserted stretch of pavement and concrete. If he had more than the checkout limit allowed, then he’d just have to sweet talk the librarian into letting him bend the rules a bit. Shutting the door much more gently than when he initially got in, Blair locked the van and jogged into the library.

* * *

                 Jim wished he had more time. He hadn’t realized when he came to the library that their Sentinel and Guide reference section was so large. Considering the GSC headquarters was located several blocks away, he should have expected it. The hour before closing he’d given himself simply wasn’t going to be enough. He managed to narrow down his search to a set of three very long and very full bookcases using the library’s computer, but hesitated at asking for any help from the librarian. He didn’t want anyone to know he’d been there looking in the Sentinel and Guide section. That meant no one could see him come in or out and he couldn’t check out any helpful books he may find. Fortunately, being a Sentinel gave him almost photographic memory. He learned that in one of the books he glanced over at the start of his search. He’d never thought about it before, but he did have an excellent memory with almost perfect recall. It could probably be improved if he had a Guide to help him, but that wasn’t an option. Unfortunately, in this case having near perfect recall did not mean he understood the things he remembered but that was something he could remedy later.

                Running his finger down the line of volumes, Jim scanned the call numbers. The library was blessedly quiet with almost no one remaining at the late hour. The children’s section was long since deserted and all but a few computers were shut down, the remaining few active computers standing silently on the main level and scattered over the upper floors with bouncing screen savers. Even the sole librarian on duty was reading her book down on the first floor. Besides the unnatural florescent lights it was actually quite nice. Perhaps he’d come back at the same time later when he didn’t have any covert research projects to conduct. The soundproof rooms at the far end of building looked promising.

                Finding his intended book, Jim stopped and pulled it from the shelf. It was nowhere near as thick as some of the extensive research guides lined on the shelves, just a basic introduction to Sentinels and Guides. Thumbing through the sections, Jim decided the book looked comprehensible enough. He flipped to the table of contents and scanned the chapters. His eyes moved down the list from “Societal Guardians: An Introduction”, past “Sentinels: Protectors of the Tribe” to “Guides: Protectors of the Guardians”, page thirty-four. Jim turned to the chapter and began reading the introducing paragraphs.

                “The role of the Guide, unlike the relatively consistent role of the Sentinel, has undergone many shifts within recorded history and between societies. In the past and other cultures, it is seen as a purely supportive role, passive and subservient to the guardian position of the Sentinel. However, with a more holistic understanding of the Sentinel/Guide relationship and role, that position becomes equally important. It is the role of the Guide to protect their Sentinel and other Sentinels…”

                Jim rolled his eyes as the introduction continued, explaining the importance of Guides to protect Sentinels from their own senses. Ignoring the urge to just put down the book and walk out of the library, he instead scanned the remaining text for any mention of a Guide’s abilities. The chapter didn’t go into great detail about any particular talent common among Guides. For the most part, it seemed the only real definition of a Guide was a person who was able to establish a deep connection or bond with a Sentinel. However, when it came to defining that connection or bond between Sentinel and Guide the book failed to give any details. It seemed even the experts didn’t really understand it.

                Jim flipped through scanning pages until a key phrase caught his attention. According to the book, some Guides possessed empathic abilities, able to sense emotions or even intentions of those around them, the strongest signals often coming from Sentinels and particularly their Sentinel. Many Guides seemed to experience some form of premonition, anticipating problems for their Sentinel before they had a chance to arise, though the skill often developed as the Guide grew more familiar with their Sentinel. Jim snorted as he realized that even this was something of a mystery to many “experts”.

The most alarming thing in the book was that some Guides had an ability to sense latent and full Sentinels. If that was true, then Sandburg could already know about Jim, which was a problem. If Sandburg knew, he would tell the GSC, but no one had approached Jim all day. There were no messages for him when he returned home and no calls through his nap.

Jim ran through the possible scenarios this new information offered. Maybe Sandburg only thought Jim was a latent Sentinel. If that was the case then they’d arrange tests with the GSC for him to take, a process which could take several days. Plus, Sandburg wouldn’t be expecting a Sentinel to hide his abilities so there would be no reason for the Guide hurry. Perhaps Sandburg couldn’t sense Sentinels at all, the book said only a select few could, and Jim was spinning himself up over nothing.

Shaking his head, Jim huffed a sigh. He had no doubt Sandburg suspected _something_ , the side glances Jim received and the fact that Sandburg requested Jim for his liaison assignment pointed to Sandburg suspecting something. Now it was just a matter of figuring out how much the Guide knew, how much he suspected, and what he had missed.

                Jim was so caught up in turning the problem over in his mind he almost missed it, the gentle thump-thumping that slowly appeared in his peripheral hearing and growing in volume. Even when he first became aware of it, he almost dismissed the sound but the full meaning of the steady beat hit him a moment later. All heartbeats were unique, like a person’s voice. Usually, it took a while for Jim to learn a specific person’s heartbeat, but he’d been tracking the telltale rhythm the entire afternoon as he avoided Sandburg in the police department.

                “Shit!” Jim cursed to himself, his head jerking toward the sound of the approaching heartbeat.

                The heartbeat originated from the parking lot. With a little focus, Jim could pin it easily. Sandburg was just turning off his van which meant Jim only had a few moments to get out of the section and out of sight. He didn’t know if Sandburg was coming to this particular part of the library, but he didn’t want to take chances. He glanced down at the book still in his hand, there was a copier a few rows over against the wall if he hurried he could get a copy of the relevant pages and be out of there in time.

                Dashing to the copier, Jim flipped the book on the glass, not bothering with the guidelines for the pages. He copied the first several pages of the Guide chapter, jamming his thumb into the button. He tilted his head listening in to check with Sandburg’s progress. The Guide was currently at the front desk trying to talk the librarian into letting him borrow more than the eight book maximum. Making a quick decision, Jim flipped through the book scanning for any other useful information. He copied over the first few pages of the Sentinel chapter, then a couple from the sections dealing with zone outs and spikes as well as syndromes commonly developed by Sentinels without a Guide.

                Sandburg was on the stairs, tromping his way past the first floor landing. His steps were slow and measured, echoing off the walls of the stairwell. Jim grabbed the copies he made and headed back for the rear stairwell, leaving the book in the copier. There wasn’t time to return it. Sandburg’s heartbeat footsteps drew closer, louder than normal thanks to the relative quiet of the library. He could hear the door opening from Sandburg’s stairwell just as he slipped into his own escape exit. Jim hoped those psychic radars Guides had didn’t work over distances as hurried down the stairs and out of the building. For a moment, he almost thought someone was watching him, but he forced himself to keep walking at a calm pace across the parking lot. If someone was watching him then turning around would only confirm his identity. Hopefully, as far as Sandburg knew no one else had been in that section of the library for the past several hours.

* * *

                The library was getting ready to close. Blair made it with barely ten minutes till closing time thanks to a red light that refused to turn for no apparent reason. Part of him was almost glad as he dragged tired limbs up the stairs to the Sentinel Studies section. Talking the librarian into letting him take home more than the limit of books had used his last bit of energy and patience for dealing with people. Thankfully, the library seemed almost devoid of all other life besides him and the librarian.

                Blair opened the door to the second story, medical science and Sentinel studies, and frowned. There was someone else on the floor, or at least there had been a few moments ago. Blair could feel the urgency and fear. Both strong emotions, radiating in the room the same way a Sentinel could sense lingering body heat. The trail led to the stairwell in the back of the building.

As Blair followed the trail he heard the dulled thump of the emergency exit door closing from the first floor. He went to the window, guessing the mystery person was just leaving the building. The back parking lot was drenched in dim orange light and though Blair didn’t have Sentinel sight he could still make out the lone figure moving quickly to a truck parked in a dark corner. Blair frowned to himself once more in confusion. The figure was Jim Ellison.

                Ellison didn’t look back, just went directly to his truck and drove away, but Blair recognized him nevertheless. Remembering the time, Blair turned from the window, his mind still on Ellison. The man’s presence just raised more questions as well as suspicions.

                As Blair headed back to the shelves the copier shifted to standby. The sudden lack of sound drew Blair’s attention and his gaze fell on the now silent copier standing against the wall. The cover was propped up by a book still pressed face down against the glass. Blair went to it and pulled the book free, scanning the title and a few pages. He could still feel the faintest traces of urgency lingering on the book, which was very strange. Usually, he had difficulty picking up empathic signals after a person left the area, but he had no doubt this was the book Ellison had been looking at and copying from, even without the strong physical evidence of the fact.

                The book itself was a simple introduction to Sentinels and Guides. It didn’t seem to go into too much detail on any aspect of the subject but it gave a basic overview of the history, roles, relationships, purposes, and other parts of the Sentinel and Guide existence. Perhaps, if Ellison was a developing Sentinel he was looking for information that would help him understand what was happening to him. Ellison did seem like the type to look for answers on his own first. Maybe, if Blair approached him and offered help that could break through the detective’s outer shell. Or it could completely piss the older, stronger, larger man off and Blair could find himself beaten into a bloody pulp of Guide smashed on the floor.

                Blair was still running the situation through his tired mind when the librarian came up behind him. “Hey, are you coming down? It’s ten already and I need to close up and get home.”

                Blair jumped, spinning to face the woman, “Yeah…just let me get a few books, I’ll just be a minute.” He sat down at the nearest library computer, relieved when the blank screen came to life with a touch of the mouse.

                The librarian frowned, the red of her lipstick accentuating the action. She must have been the youngest and newest employee there, getting the latest and worst shifts. “Ok, but I’ll be waiting down at the desk, make it quick, and turn out the lights when you‘re done.”

                Blair nodded and waved a hand before typing in his search parameters into the online catalogue. He grabbed the first five books he found on the list plus five more he knew were good sources and hurried down to the front desk. Nearly all the lights were out and the woman stood behind the desk, tapping her foot waiting for Blair to finish. He gave a guilty smile before dumping the books on the counter for her to check them out in the system. All the while he ran his plan of action through his head. Tomorrow, he’d get into the station early, find Ellison and stick to the man like glue. Crime scene or no crime scene, Blair wasn’t going to let the man out of his sight. He’d wait for Ellison to come to him first, but if that didn’t happen by the end of the day, he’d confront the detective about the possibility of his being a Sentinel. What was the worst that could happen?

TBC…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editing this chapter presented a little bit of a conundrum for me which I can hopefully explain without being too confusing. In the original posting of this story on FFic.net, this chapter was broken up into two parts, chapters five and six. However, I received an excellent review pointing out that my fifth chapter (the first two scenes in this chapter) did nothing for moving the story along and therefore was a pointless chapter. Taking this into consideration, I've combined the old chapters five and six into one longer chapter five. So if you're looking at this story on both FFic.net and AO3, it will seem like the story on AO3 is missing a chapter in total. It's not, I've just combined two of the older chapters. Since I'm not sure how it will affect the reviews already posted on FFic.net, I'm going to leave the two chapters separate on that site. Confusing? Absolutely, but sometimes that's how life is. Sorry.
> 
> Hope you're enjoying the story.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still don't own the Sentinel.

 

**Chapter 6**

                For the first time in a long time, the alarm woke before Jim Ellison. It shrilled to life with a certain amount of mechanical glee at finally being the first up on a week day. The sudden noise cut through the haze of numerous white noise generators and jerked Jim out of his exhausted sleep. His hand shot out in a knee-jerk reaction silencing the whining beep with a heavy smack. Lying for a moment, he dragged a hand over his face, scrubbing away the grogginess still filling his mind. Forcing himself up and out of bed, he stumbled down the stairs and to the shower.

                Jim spent a large portion of the night leafing through the information he got at the library about Sentinels and Guides. In addition to that, he’d done a preliminary background check on his new Guide tag-along on the internet. Though some of it seemed a bit technical, at least for his tired brain to pull apart, none of what he learned the night before was very encouraging.

                Apparently, Blair Sandburg was a relatively well known and talented Guide in the GSC. He wrote numerous papers on Sentinel Studies as well as from an Anthropological position on the topic. The man was also noted as being talented with several empathic abilities associated with Guides. Despite Sandburg’s apparent abilities, he didn’t have a Sentinel yet and from reading between the lines Jim determined Sandburg was looking for one. Jim didn’t understand the intricacies of how the GSC assigned Sentinels to Guides. If he hazarded a guess, he’d say politics played a large role, it always did, but maybe he was being cynical. No matter what, though, the last thing Jim needed at this point was a target on his back from a Guide desperate for his own Sentinel.

                The only piece of potentially good information Jim found on the man was Sandburg’s relatively traditional view on Sentinels. From what he was able to gather, Sandburg focused on the protector aspect of Sentinels rather than the weaknesses that came with heightened sense. It seemed the Anthropologist-Guide emphasized the abilities and strengths that came from being a Sentinel instead of the growing tendency in the field to see the senses as a handicap to regular life. If that were true, then Jim might be able to use that to his advantage if things really fell apart.

                Besides the information on Sandburg, the copies detailing Sentinel characteristics and diseases was even less encouraging. Apparently, Sentinels didn’t live very long life spans. The senses brought with them innumerable sensitivities to chemicals and foreign substances. In fact, Sentinels seemed to be the only group that fared worse in modern society, with bad reactions to everything from pollution to modern pharmaceuticals. Personally, Jim learned the hard way to be careful about the medications he took.

Then, worse than the tendency of modern Sentinels to drop dead at a relatively early age, they also seemed to have a habit of going insane. The book detailed several psychological, cognitive, and behavioral problems that could be linked back to heightened senses, obsessive-compulsive disorders and autism being a couple. After every section that ran through some new detriment to heightened senses the book emphasized the importance of having a Guide to help the Sentinel cope and avoid some of these dangers. Jim wished he had checked the book out so he could pitch it to the other side of the room. The stack of photocopies just was not as satisfying to throw.

                Jim shook off his thoughts concerning the matter and shut off the shower, quickly drying off. He had every intention of getting into work before Sandburg, if only to give him time to prepare. He wasn’t sure if the Guide had seen or recognized him at the library, but Jim was going to make the assumption that he had and put up a defense accordingly. _Deny everything and don’t let the man corner you_ , Jim thought to himself as he looked over the room one last time and headed out the door.

                In his truck, Jim took an extra moment to run everything through his head and double check his control. He’d hidden every piece of incriminating evidence and taken a moment to focus in on his senses, carefully balancing them to the world around him. Fighting the urge to speed to work, he forced himself to stay calm as he wound through the predawn streets. Sandburg didn’t strike him as the early bird type, despite the man’s early appearance at the station the day previous. He had plenty of time to make it in before the Guide. In many ways this was like the covert operations he conducted in the military. If he could survive drug cartels actively hunting him down, he could survive one annoying academic.

* * *

 

                The next day, Blair woke up as early as he could. It wasn’t as early as he’d hoped, but seven o’clock was the best he could do after spending half the night rifling through medical reports, scholarly papers, books and first hand observations of skilled empaths. At some point in the wee hours of the morning, he finally admitted to himself he wasn’t going to cram any more information in his head and went to bed.

                It was worth it, though. In the midst of a large pile of irrelevant information and false leads Blair found a few references to a similar phenomenon decades ago. A latent Sentinel was stranded in the wilderness for several weeks. During that time, he unknowingly developed his abilities without the aid or assistance of a Guide and upon returning to civilization did not recognize his new talents as Sentinel abilities. The man apparently went several years without a Guide before zoning in a public park. The following medical examinations preformed by Guides and Sentinel doctors showed similar distortions in the man’s psychic aura, though not to the extent that seemed to surround Jim Ellison.

                After reviewing the case several times and going through the notes Blair had from the brief time spent with the Detective, Blair came to the conclusion that the … distortion, for lack of a better description, surrounding Ellison was most likely due to his only being a latent Sentinel on the very brink of developing his senses. The threshold abilities of a latent Sentinel would have the same muffled feel and the lack of training from a Guide would account for their distorted nature in theory. It was difficult to know for certain since this area of Sentinel Studies was still highly debated.

                The theory was sound. It made sense, but the problem was Blair wasn’t an expert in Sentinel medicine. It just wasn’t his field. He was barely qualified to debate on the issue. He needed a second opinion but didn’t want to involve the GSC just yet. This situation seemed particularly delicate, considering Ellison’s attitude, and the GSC was more like an elephant in a China shop when it came to discovering a new Sentinel, particularly one who was already an adult. Their approach tended along the lines of get the Sentinel into a safe environment and worry about their personal adjustment to a new lifestyle later. Knowing what he did about the man’s military background, Blair wanted to stay on Ellison’s good side for as long as possible…not that Blair was currently on Ellison’s good side, but he still had hopes.

                Blair ran through the options as he climbed out of the shower and quickly got dressed. He’d never make it into the office before Jim like he had wanted to last night. However, he could head over to the university. There were several experts on Sentinel medicine there that would be able to validate or shoot down his theory. As long as he didn’t reveal any personal information about the Sentinel’s identity then he wouldn’t have to worry about the GSC being dragged into the mix just yet. Maybe he could pass it off as a side project or something.

                Grabbing a few articles off the pile of clean clothes lying next to his dresser, Blair dressed and made his way into the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast before heading out for the day. His apartment was small but clean, or it usually was when he had time to put away his laundry, and conveniently close to Rainier University. The cramp size seemed even smaller with the numerous shelves lining the walls filled with books, artifacts, and research materials. What little wall space was still visible contained photographs and more souvenirs from his various expeditions. At the moment, there was little on the kitchen shelves but some bagels and organic milk in the fridge that had probably gone bad. He planned on going shopping days ago, but got caught up in one thing after another, first with the project, then with his discovery.

                Blair settled for chewing on a bagel as he gathered up his research and stuffed it in his pack before heading out the door. The drive didn’t take long, despite morning traffic, and fifteen minutes later he found himself in front of Eli Stoddard’s office. He knocked, hoping his old mentor was in today. As an anthropologist, Eli always shared Blair’s views on Sentinels, looking to the past and remote tribal societies as a better guide for how Sentinels should or could fit into society and the world at large. After the third round of knocking and increasing looks from students passing by, Blair gave up with a huff. He glanced down the hall. He could go ask the official Sentinel Medicine expert, but Blair really didn’t want to talk to the man. Unfortunately, Blair needed advice and it looked like his options and time were limited.

Turning Blair hurried down the hall to the office of Dr. Garry Hedrick PhD of Sentinel medicine. The door was propped open so Blair could see the professor sitting behind his desk. Still, Blair hesitated. Dr. Hedrick was decidedly more modernist and extreme in his views on the treatment of Sentinels. Blair and Hedrick had several disagreements in previous interactions, some of them very loud. He almost left but Dr. Hedrick looked up from behind his desk and caught Blair’s eye from the partially open door.

Motioning Blair to enter, Hedrick gave him a polite smile. “Dr. Sandburg, what are you doing here? I thought you went on a sabbatical for that project from the GSC.”

                “I am,” Blair said stepping into the book-lined office and shutting the door behind him. “But something came up that I wanted to ask Eli about.”

                “Eli’s out for the day,” Dr. Hedrick said as he laid his pen on the desk, pushing away the paper he’d been reviewing, “Perhaps I can help?”

Blair hesitated one last time before he pulled out some of the notes he’d made about his theory and took a seat. “I found a medical case from the forty’s where a Sentinel, not realizing that he was a Sentinel, developed a severely warped and distorted psychic aura due to lack of training and a Guide.” Blair started, deliberately leaving out his current discovery.

                Leaning back in his chair, Hedrick nodded, “I remember reading that case study. It was an exceptional situation. The man actually survived years without help, but he had been forced to make extreme changes in his life, limit the things he did, the places he went, what he ate.”

                “Wouldn’t he have noticed, though?” Blair asked, voicing one the many questions he had about the case, “I read through the observations and notes of the study and I find it odd that he didn’t pick up on the fact that he may have been a Sentinel.”

                Hedrick nodded. “Yes, that was the big question at the time. From what I‘ve read on the incident, it was concluded the gradual nature of the changes was the primary reason. The concessions started out small and grew over time, a little less pepper on the food, buying a few more silk or cotton shirts than wool. By the time he was discovered, he’d given up most of his life without even realizing it.” Hedrick paused, fingers steepled and brow furrowed and he ran through the case in his memory. “I believe there was even some reports that he didn’t want a Guide initially, but I highly doubt it. The source was unreliable and you know how the facts from those early case studies can be twisted.”

                “Especially if he was in pain at the time, it wouldn’t make sense to turn down a Guide,” Blair agreed, before turning back to his main question, “I was curious if a similar distortion were possible in a latent Sentinel, someone who was on the brink of developing his senses.”

                Hedrick looked back down at him with a slightly startled face. “Why? You haven’t found one have you?”

                “No,” Blair said quickly, hoping his response wasn’t too quick. For a brief moment, he thanked God that Hedrick didn’t have any empathic talents. He was sure even the most talentless empath could have picked up on his nervousness. “I came across the study in my general researching and I was curious if it was something I should be on the lookout for.”

                Hedrick leaned forward, placing his forearms on his desk as he watched Blair with a measuring expression. For a moment, Blair doubted whether the man lacked any extra sensory abilities but he didn’t get the impression Hedrick suspected anything out of the ordinary.

                “It’s very possible,” the doctor said, after a silence that stretched just a moment too long, “In fact, I’d even say it’s more than likely. Sentinels that gain their abilities or are discovered late are always reported to have slightly altered psychic or empathic impressions than those found early in life, but not much more than what would differ from person to person. It’s a difficult thing to study since the very nature of empathic and psychic impressions is next to impossible to measure. Most of it is reliant on the interpretation of the person experiencing the impression and therefore extremely subjective. We just haven’t found a way to scientifically measure it yet.”

                Blair nodded as he listened to the explanation. He was well aware of the difficulties that came with trying to relate what he sensed from others to someone who had never experienced it. Medical observation of brain waves, biochemistry, and anything else simply failed to convey sensation and interpretation. Then add in the as-yet unexplained connection that could form between an individual Sentinel and Guide and things became even more complicated.

                Hedrick shrugged. “The psychic and spiritual aspects of both Sentinels and Guides are still a great mystery. It’s so difficult to study those things empirically and it’s only in recent years that the majority of people have started to acknowledge the full extent of that aspect of the field. We just don’t know that much about it.”

                “But it’s never been reported that distortions like that could impact the ability to sense a Sentinel, right?” Blair asked for clarification.

                Hedrick thought a moment and shook his head. “I can’t think of any reports, but as I said, we simply don’t have much by way of study into that area yet.” He hesitated a moment. “Blair, you realize if you find someone you need to bring them into the GSC, right? It’s for their own good. A Sentinel by themselves can’t survive out there. The pollutions and chemicals in the air and water alone can be enough to cause severe problems. I know you take a softer approach when it comes to Sentinels and their lifestyle, but even you have to realize the world has changed. We don’t live in the jungles of Peru anymore. It’s better to hurt a few feelings than have a Sentinel end up dead because you waited too long.”

                Blair didn’t say anything through the Doctor’s heartfelt advice. He knew Hedrick had always taken a more cautionary approach to Sentinel medicine, supporting many of the new laws and regulations designed to protect Sentinels from the environment around them. It was a subject they often disagreed on and more than once held heated debates over it. Still, despite Blair’s own personal beliefs on the subject, he couldn’t deny that Dr. Hedrick cared about the health and lives of all Sentinels. Even if Blair didn’t think he understood the personal repercussions that course of action could have, the man’s heart was in the right place so instead of making any comments or arguments back Blair just nodded.

                “Don’t worry. _If_ I do happen to find anyone that meets the bill of a Sentinel, I’ll be sure to do the best thing possible for them,” Blair said.

                Hedrick didn’t say anything more, just looked at Blair with a level gaze. Blair held the Professor’s gaze. He had no doubt if Hedrick thought he knew about a latent Sentinel the man would call the GSC immediately. A small part of Blair regretted coming to ask for the second opinion but he had little to no experience in this field and couldn‘t fully trust his own theories. Then, suddenly, Hedrick’s gaze cut away, back to his paper-stacked desk and leaned back in his faux leather chair again.

                “I’m sure you will,” He said, with wave of his hand.

                Blair took that chance to stand up and prepare to leave. “Well, thank you, doctor. I’ll be sure to keep all this in mind during my study.”

                Hedrick rose from his chair, as well, taking Blair’s offered hand. “I hope I’ve been some assistance. It is an interesting matter, just very difficult to study, especially for an outsider like myself. It’s probably the reason why we haven‘t made much progress since that case occurred.”

                “No, you’ve been a great help, but I really need to get back to the department. I’m still trying to win their trust so it can be a little difficult.” Blair gathered up his things and turned toward the door.

                “I can understand. Good luck, then. I hope you find a Sentinel while you’re there.”

                “Thanks, I’m certainly going to try,” Blair muttered, pulling the door open and moving out into a hallway filled with students. The early class must have just gotten out. He weaved through the milling crowds heading for the exit and his car. A quick glance at his watch and Blair grimaced. He was going to be so late, something which was not a good impression for the second day, but there was little he could do about it at the moment. Maybe he could fix the copier machine and make up for it that way.

* * *

                Jim threw another side glance at the clock, checking the time again. The morning was wearing on and there was still no sign of Sandburg. At first, when he’d gotten into the department with no sign of the Guide in sight he was relieved. The delay gave him time to settle himself, get ready for a long and trying day, though if the Guide didn’t get there soon the day wouldn’t be nearly as long and trying as he originally thought. A brief flash of annoyance passed through him as he noted another half hour passed. If the man was going to be attached to the department for the time being the least he could do was be on time about it, but Jim quickly squashed the feeling. Any minute without Sandburg was a good minute and if the observer couldn’t keep it together enough to be on time in the morning maybe the ridiculous project of his would be canceled and Jim could go back to living his own life without fear of imminent discovery.

                _Maybe, the project has already been canceled_ , Jim thought to himself with a certain amount of hope.

                The feeling did not last, however, as Jim heard the familiar thumping coming up in the elevator and stopping at his floor. Sandburg rushed into the room a moment later, un-slinging his backpack as he approached Jim’s desk.

                “Sorry I’m late, man,” Sandburg said breathless, dumping his bag next to Jim’s desk and wheeling a chair over. “I had to swing by the university for something.”

                “Oh? You teaching classes still?” Jim asked. He was fishing, he knew, looking for anything that would keep Sandburg out of the department and away from him for a few hours out of the day. If Sandburg had classes then Jim could do desk work during those times and make sure he was elsewhere the rest of the day.

                Sandburg looked at Jim with surprise, eyebrows shooting to his hair at actually being addressed by the cop. “Nah,” he said, unknowingly squashing Jim’s plan, “I’m on sabbatical until this thing is over so I don’t have any classes or responsibilities to worry about. I just wanted to double check some things with a colleague before coming in today.”

                Jim shot his tag-along a glance. He didn’t like the sound of that at all.

                There was a pregnant pause as Jim didn’t respond with so much as a grunt. The Detective could feel Sandburg waiting for something to continue the conversation, but if he was expecting something different from yesterday’s silent treatment he had another thing coming.

                After a few moments of hanging silence Sandburg settled down with an audible sigh, pulling out a note book from his backpack. The two quickly fell into the same pattern from the day before, only this time Sandburg’s attempts at conversation were fewer and far between. The silence seemed heavier as well, a giant pink elephant from last night sitting at the desk with the two men.

                Jim kept his back to Sandburg as much as possible, focusing on his computer screen as he ran through information from his recent murder case. He knew the Sandburg kept shooting looks at him, wanting to say something, and he had a pretty good idea what that conversation would revolve around, but Jim wasn’t offering any openings.

Resisting the temptation to roll his neck and release some of the tension that had built up there, Jim glared at the computer, no longer reading the information it displayed. His senses kept swinging back and forth like a pendulum.

The book Jim read the night before stated that Sentinels had a tendency to feel more comfortable using their senses around people who were more “empathically inclined”. The book claimed it was a personality trait similar to wall-flowers shirking away from large crowds or social butterflies attracted to noisy, busy place. Jim personally had a different theory. It seemed more likely the lack of sleep he got from the night before was screwing with his control combined with the stress of dealing with Sandburg. He always had a little more difficulty keeping his senses at a normal level in stressful situations, especially if there was a perceived threat in the area, and Sandburg definitely constituted as a threat. Either way, the constant effort to pull everything back in and refocus was giving him a head, neck, and shoulder ache all in one fell swoop.

Behind him, Jim could hear Sandburg scratching away on his note pad. The clock on the wall seemed to be ticking abominably loud. Even the steady creak of Rafe’s chair across the room was getting on Jim’s nerves. He checked the time hoping it wasn’t too early to break for lunch and a chance to sit out in his truck listening to the AM static channel. Eleven thirty wasn’t too early for lunch, was it? Granted he’d gotten in a little later than normal, but it had still been earlier than the rest of the department. Behind him, he could hear Sandburg take in a breath to make another attempt at conversation and Jim was out of his chair like a shot.

                “Lunch,” was all Jim said as he grabbed his jacket and moved past Sandburg.

                Sandburg’s head came up before quickly closing his notebook. “Great! Where are we going?”

                “I don’t know where you’re going, but I’m going out,” Jim replied heading for the break room to get his packed lunch, Sandburg hot on his heels.

                There was a brief pause as his tag-along followed him into the empty break room. “Do you mind if I come along?”

                “Yes, actually, I do,” Jim said, not caring that it came out rude and irritable.

                Jim opened the fridge in the back corner and started sifting through boxes of tub-a-ware and brown bags, pieces of fruit and bottles of soda. His lunch was pushed to the back, one of the downfalls to coming in early. Before the senses, he would go to Wonder Burger or another restaurant in the area, but as things got worse he started making his own lunch. That way he knew exactly what went into what he was eating. The last thing he wanted notice when eating lunch was that the person who made hadn’t washed their hands or that the restaurant had a rat problem. It saved money, too. Stacking various mystery food items on the counter between the sink and the coffee machine, Jim grumble to himself as he looked for his brown paper bag. So help him, if someone took his roast beef on rye with extra Swiss cheese…

                “You pack your own lunch?” Sandburg asked, his voice peaked with interest.

                “Me and half the department,” Jim muttered, not caring if Sandburg heard him or not. Ah, there it was.

                Sandburg didn’t say anything more for a few moments. Jim could feel the man’s eyes boring into his back as he crammed things back into the fridge. The Guide wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure if he should. Jim could feel the indecision hanging in the air like the giant pink elephant that had followed them from the desk. It rested in the breath Sandburg held in preparation to speak, in the way he shifted and twitched before saying anything.

                “Don’t trust restaurant food?” Sandburg asked. When Jim didn’t answer, he took a breath and continued, “You know, Jim-”

                Jim shot Sandburg a glare that would have withered poison ivy.

                Despite the glare, Sandburg drew in a deep breath and began again, “Detective Ellison, last night I was at the library and while I was there someone-“

Jim kept his glare steady with no hint of a reaction crossing his expression. His lack of response slowed Sandburg’s momentum and he stopped, unsure how to continue.

After a moment Sandburg tried another approach, “Sometimes people have particular talents and they don’t even realize it until one day they just…What I mean to say is traditionally, in ancient societies and today, sometimes it takes time to…let me start over.” Sandburg paused, clasping his hand and putting his two pointer fingers to his lips. “Have you ever noticed that things can sometimes be too loud or bright or too much in general?”

                Jim shut the fridge door with a dull thud. He turned to the man who was currently blocking the only way out of the small room. _Damn, cornered._ “What exactly are you implying?” he asked in a low voice with a few steps to bring him in the other man‘s personal space.

                Sandburg frowned at the low tone and the hostile glare Jim was sending him. “I…I was just wondering if…” The Guide faded off, again unsure how to continue. They stared at each other for a few moments before Sandburg seemed to make up his mind. “I was wondering if there was any possibility that you could be a Sentinel,” he said in a quiet voice, his eyes never leaving Jim‘s.

                Jim felt his heart stutter slightly at the question. He expected it, but hearing it spoken out loud was no less disturbing. He didn’t answer right away, giving himself a chance to regain a little of control from the panic that had momentarily grabbed his heart. _Deny everything_ , he repeated silently to himself before speaking up in a quiet, cold voice, “What would give you that idea? If I were a Sentinel, I would be at the GSC or with some Guide.”

                “Ah…well,” Sandburg tried, his voice hesitant, heartbeat stuttering a nervous pattern from Jim’s towering proximity, “If your senses hadn’t come online yet, it’s possible no one may have noticed…b-but we could go and take some tests at the GSC…”

                Jim clamped down on any fear, but his anger, he let that seep through with no problem. In fact, he barely restrained himself from slamming Sandburg against the wall. “Look, you neo-hippy witchdoctor punk,” he hissed, “I am not a Sentinel. No one in my family has ever been a Sentinel. I am _not_ going to take any of your tests and I am _not_ going to tolerate any of your accusations.”

                Sandburg shrunk back bumping into the counter, eyes wide and mouth dropping open, but Jim didn’t let up. He moved with the man, staying in his personal space and glaring down at him.

                “I don’t like you, Sandburg, and if I had a choice you wouldn’t even be in the same building as me, but I don’t. So this is how we’re going to fix the situation. You’re going to stop trying to be my friend, get your notes for your study, and then we can both move on in our own separate directions and forget each other ever existed.”

                Jim didn’t give the other a chance to respond as he stormed out of the department toward the stairs. He didn’t know what he was going to do after lunch, but he was coming up with _some_ excuse to stay away from the station. No way in _Hell_ was he coming back today.

TBC…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own the Sentinel

 

**Chapter 7**  

                “Well, that didn’t go well,” Blair muttered to himself a few moments after the detective left.

                For a moment there, Blair was sure Ellison was about to slam him into the wall, or deck him, but the detective maintained self-control. Despite Ellison’s controlled expression giving little away, except for the anger at the end, Blair could still tell from the strong emotions that had come from the man during their confrontation how close he came to meeting the wall in a violent way. However, Blair could feel nervousness and uncertainty within Ellison and, more than that, he could feel the overwhelming fear that had gripped the man’s heart.

                Blair’s frown deepened as he looked toward the door where Ellison had left. The fear alongside the anger still lingered in the room. He could practically feel it prickling on his skin, making him uneasy and tempting him to look over his shoulder. It wasn’t a normal fear. It was something much deeper, bordering on the panic of a trapped animal. It didn’t make sense. The fear had peaked when Blair mentioned the GSC, the tests, and Jim being a Sentinel. If the man was afraid of his own abilities, it could explain some of the fear but not the gut-wrenching level, and if that were the case then it would mean Jim knew what he was, right? If he knew what he was then why hadn’t he gotten some help? Why hadn’t he taken the steps to ensure his own safety and those around him? Unless, he was in denial, refusing to believe his talents were real. That was very possible.

                Making his way out of the break room, Blair moved back to Ellison’s empty desk. No one in the bullpen seemed to notice anything out of place. Ellison storming out of the building apparently was a common occurrence. He sat down at the desk and looked at the papers still stacked across it. Ellison wouldn’t be coming back today. Blair knew he wouldn’t, the same way he knew about the fear the detective had felt. It was just as well, though. Blair needed time to think about this new development and come up with a new plan of action. Talking to the man was definitely out, at least until they could get on better terms, something which was going to be made much more difficult considering what just happened.

                “Just give him time,” Blair muttered to himself, “and space…Lots of space.”

                The next day Blair made sure to do just that. He spent the day talking with other detectives and coordinating with other departments for interviews. He didn’t even see Jim, though he knew the man was in the building. The day after that was much the same until he ran out of excuses to keep him busy so he sat at Jim’s desk and did his best impression of a mute. Jim, for his part, found excuses to be away from his desk, going out in the field, interviewing suspects, even making coffee runs, an unprecedented event judging by the reactions of the other detectives. A week went by and they had barely spoken a dozen words to one another. Jim closed several cases with everything wrapped up but the paper work, and paper work required staying at your desk. Blair made more progress on his project concerning subcultures than he ever thought possible. Simon was ecstatic about the Jim’s new closure rate and the guys loved having someone to go get the coffee, even if they did joke that it was ice cold by the time it reached their desk, courtesy of the human iceberg. All in all, it was a very productive week. Productive, that is, in everything except what mattered. Blair was miserable.

                The one consolation prize was that Jim didn’t seem nearly as murderous as he had been directly after that disastrous conversation in the break room. Blair felt the simmering anger and suspicion coming from the detective for days following the confrontation but it finally seemed to have subsided. Yes, the detective still radiated anger and suspicion but little more than before and the silences seemed a little less tense.

                Blair shot a glance at the still, stiff figure next to him. Or maybe he was just getting used to uncomfortable lack of conversation. He bit back a sigh. One step forward and two steps back.

                The silence was killing Blair, he didn’t know how much longer he could stand it. Not only that, but now that Blair was looking closely, he could see the signs of stress that came with the Senses. Jim’s abilities were about ready to pop, if they hadn’t started already. Time was running out for both of them in their uneasy truce. Something was going to snap, Blair wasn’t sure what exactly, but something, he could feel it. He just had to make sure to be there to pick up the pieces when it happened.    

* * *

                Jim pretended he didn’t hear the cut off sigh coming from the man sharing his desk. As far as he was concerned there was no one there to sigh in the first place. That had been his working solution to the “Sandburg problem” thus far and he was going to keep it up until absolutely necessary.

                Thankfully, the observer had been unexpectedly cooperative with the unspoken plan. At first, Jim was expecting the Guide to call into the GSC and report him as a latent Sentinel, but days went by and no one showed from the prestigious institution to take him away. That was enough to at least ease some of his misgivings he had about Sandburg, but that still didn’t mean he wanted the Guide anywhere near him.

                Jim scowled as another pang from his headache shot through his skull. The dull throb had become a constant part of his life since Sandburg’s arrival. It backed off during the night when he retreated into the safety of his familiar and highly fortified apartment only to grow as the day went on to migraine proportions. Headaches had been a constant part of life since his abilities appeared, but the constant stress of pulling in on his roving senses was wearing him down into one giant headache.

                Not for the first time, Jim thought back to the information he’d gotten from the library, specifically about Sentinels feeling more open to using their senses with an empathically-inclined Guide around. Jim still wasn’t sure if that was true or not. He was trying to keep a tighter control on his senses around Blair, forcing them to stay at a normal level more than normal. He did something similar when his senses first appeared and had suffered similar migraines because of it. Of course, Jim wasn’t sure if his senses were reaching and ebbing more than usual, but he refused to believe it if they were. The idea that maybe those books did know a little something of what they were talking about was lost in the one conclusion that Jim drew from the experience: this was entirely Blair’s fault.

                Unfair though it sounded, it was easier for Jim to blame Sandburg than to admit that he might need some help with the senses after all. Jim hadn’t had too many problems before the Guide came around, at least no problems he wasn’t able to fix with meditation, mental discipline, rest, heavy curtains, white noise generators, aspirin, or a high level of pain tolerance. Yes, the zone-outs always gave him cause for worry, but he always snapped back, and he never had a problem if he didn’t reach too far. Overall, things were working out, that is, until the interloping Guide appeared and started screwing with his system.

                A loud scraping noise jolted Jim from his thoughts as he realized his hearing had gotten away from him again. He shot the offending chair across the room a glare as the noise added to the throbbing in his head. Behind him, he could feel Sandburg’s sideways stare, like the man knew exactly what was going on with him. Jim forced himself back to his work, resisting the urge to bring a hand to his forehead. He thought briefly of the extra-large bottle of aspirin sitting in his bottom drawer, but didn’t want to make his problems obvious. It was past lunch, a few more hours and he could go home without too much notice.

                However, Simon bursting out of his office destroyed Jim’s plans for an early day with one announcement. “We have a hostage situation, people!”

                The room stilled with the announcement, everyone turning their heads and pinning their full attention on the Captain.

                “On the corner of Fourth and Willow, four known suspects and a possible fifth holding at least six hostages. The officer at the scene thinks the ring leader might be one of the head honchos from the local drug scene. I want everyone available down there twenty minutes ago. Set up a perimeter and vantage points of all the exits. We’ll straighten out the details when we get there.” There was a brief pause as everyone continued to stare at the large man for a split second more before Simon bellowed, “Move!”

                Then, just as suddenly the room jumped back to frenzied life again as everyone hurried to action. Detectives grabbed their jackets, service weapons and were out the door in seconds. Jim clumped all his sensitive material currently out and dropped it into a secure drawer before holstering his service weapon. From the corner of his eye he saw Sandburg stuffing papers and notebooks into his backpack.

                "What do you think you're doing, Sandburg?" Jim asked, knowing exactly what the answer would be.

                Sandburg avoided Jim’s glare as he packed his own papers away into his bag. “I’m going with you to observe how things are run down at the site.”

                Jim was already shaking his head before Sandburg got out the first two words. “No, we went over this already. You are not taking any day trips to active crime scenes. The last thing we need is a civilian observer getting in the way.”

                Sandburg opened his mouth to protest, his own annoyed glare growing on his face but the captain’s appearance a moment later made any further arguments unnecessary.

                “He‘s coming, Ellison,” Simon said, closing and locking the door to his office.

                “But sir,” Jim protested turning to face his superior, “You know what these situations are like. Thing are going to be chaotic enough without untrained personnel in the way. Not to mention it’s an active crime scene, an active _crime_ happening at the moment. It could get dangerous!” Jim inwardly winced, it sounded more protective than he intended, but at the moment he was more concerned with keeping Sandburg away from the scene in case he needed to use any special “talents”. “Think of the paperwork involved if he gets hurt,” Jim added.

                “Didn’t know you cared so much,” Sandburg commented straight faced.

                “I’m worried about what would happen to the department if we let our civilian observer get hurt during a crime,” Jim snapped.

                Simon shook his head pausing before he moved past them. “There’s going to be press and spectators all over the place anyway. Sandburg being there isn’t going to change anything. Now stop complaining and get your ass in gear.”

                Jim fought back a frustrated growl as he caught Sandburg’s triumphant grin from the corner of his eye. Without saying another word he snatched the keys from his desk and left the office, the kid hurrying to catch up behind him.

                “Don’t worry,” Sandburg said, getting on the elevator behind Jim, “You won’t even know I’m there. I’ll just sit back in my own little corner and take notes from afar.”

                “Damn right, you will,” Simon agreed, “Just remember that when we get there. If I find out you’re trying to interview anyone or getting underfoot in anyway it’ll be the last time you’ll be leaving the office for official police business.”

                Jim bit his tongue and glared at the doors thinking once again how the elevator was too small for him and Sandburg, much less all three of them.

                The elevator ride down to the parking garage was silent and tense after that, as was the ride to the scene when Sandburg decided that being Jim’s liaison meant he rode in Jim’s truck. Jim didn’t say anything, though he could feel his jaw tightening with every passing moment. If he didn’t relax a little he was going to break a tooth.

                When they arrived on site, the scene was already a mass of confusion with a dense crowd of bystanders. The responding police pushed curious civilians back to a safe distance away, setting up tape and wooden barriers to keep the area clear. Jim pulled in directly behind the Captain, following Simon past the newly established police line, Sandburg following close behind him. The loud thrumming of the crowd pounded in Jim’s ears. He barely caught a flinch as a police siren let out a short shriek.

                A hand landed lightly on his arm as Sandburg leaned in slightly. “Are you ok?” he asked.

                Jim didn’t trust himself to open his mouth to reply to the younger man at the moment, so he ignored the question, jerking his arm away from the other’s touch. He followed Simon up to the makeshift command center and listened into the short summary of the situation. There were still only four confirmed assailants with no news on the possible fifth. The six hostages were being held on first floor in the far back office. They were moved there immediately after the arrival of the police.

                According to the responding officers, it didn’t seem like the assailants planned on taking hostages. From what they’d been able to see before the blinds were drawn, the hostage takers only had hand guns with them, nothing high powered, no explosives, and no body armor. The building itself was a poor choice for holding off the city’s police department with many broad windows and an entire corner under construction, thick plastic tarps hanging over gaping holes in the building’s side. Anyone of those points could become an easy access for officers trying to get into the building. Of course, the suddenness of it all also meant the assailants would be more prone to panic, and strained nerves with itchy trigger fingers never made a good combination.

                Simon frowned as he looked over the building schematics, hastily procured from the construction company currently on lunch break. “Swat’s been mobilized but it’ll be another full hour before they’re on scene. I think sending in some men to these areas but not a full breach would be our best bet. We can get them set up inside the building with cover and cut off any form of escape. Plus, it will give us a chance to establish some form of communication, maybe we could talk them down before things get more out of control.”

                Jim looked over the floor diagram again, thinking over what the construction crew said when questioned. All of the back rooms had been cleared out for the renovations and repairs taking place. Some of the walls had been taken down, partially or entirely, leaving a relatively open area in the back. There were also no phones or computer connections running to the back half of the building which meant no form of communication. Nodding his head, Jim agreed, “I think the less time they have in there to themselves thinking up brilliant ideas is a good thing.”

                “Right, I want you, Rafe, Brown, and Jackson to set up positions. Go in through the construction area and the front and stay out of sight until you’ve got cover. I’ll have everyone maintain radio silence until you contact us. Talk them down if you can but-”

                “You’re sending Jim in there? It’s a construction site!” Sandburg interrupted from behind.

                Both Simon and Jim turned to glare at the eaves dropper, though Simon’s was just aggravated, Jim’s had an unspoken warning to it.

                “And why would that matter, Sandburg?” Simon asked, turning back to the diagrams spread out over the hood of a cruiser.

                Jim caught Sandburg’s eye and made a minute shake of his head, putting all the menace and threat he could in the action.

                It seemed to work, because Sandburg paused, mouth half open, and flinched slightly before continuing, “Because Jim’s got…allergies, lots of allergies, and all the dust and fumes that are going to be there…”

                Simon rolled his eyes before glancing at Jim and Sandburg, “I’m sure detective Ellison will be fine, and if he wouldn’t be I’m sure he would inform me of the danger, right?” Simon’s glare turned from Blair to Jim.

                “Yes, sir,” Jim immediately replied, expression settling into a familiar scowl to avoid wincing. The thought of all the chemicals in most construction areas gave him pause. He’d have to turn his smell way down and deal with any reactions he had after the fact. Most of all, he had to make sure that his condition did not affect the operation or more than just his lifestyle could be at risk. It was times like this that he wondered if he should tell Simon, but he’d managed through similar situations before and he would manage again.

                “Alright,” Simon nodded, “Now get going, the sooner we end this the better.”

                Jim nodded and turned from the car to find Rafe, Brown, and Jackson, almost colliding with Sandburg on the way. “Sandburg, I thought you were going to stay out of the way,” he growled, grabbing the observer by his shoulders and physically moving to the side.

                Sandburg didn’t bother responding, instead moving into step with Jim. “You can’t seriously be thinking of going in there without back up,” he hissed, voice low.

                Jim shot him an annoyed looked before replying just as low, “No, Rafe, Brown, and Jackson are coming, too.”

                “That’s not what I mean,” Sandburg rolled his eyes.

                “Well then I guess I don’t know what you mean,” Jim said, deliberately ignoring the Guide’s implications. Jim stopped and turned to face him, “Look Sandburg, I’ve been doing this job for quite some time, I’m more than capable of getting in and out without incident.”

                Turning from Sandburg, Jim strode away. He caught site of Brown and Rafe helping close off the barriers on the growing crowd. A moment later, he found Jackson nearby. They went over the plan and with a nod from Simon headed into the building, two from the side and two from the front.

                Jim held back the heavy construction plastic sheet to allow Jackson in close behind him. He immediately noticed the thick smell of paint thinner and dust, motor oil and wood that filled the air inside the building. Smothering a cough, Jim paused a moment and forced his smell down as far as it would go. It wouldn’t help for long, but it would work until they got out of the building. They wound through the half demolished walls and naked studs until they heard the muffled voices of the group in the back.

                There were two doors leading to the room where the hostages were being held. Jim and Jackson took cover by one. Jim could hear Rafe and Brown find positions near the other. He gave a silent nod to Jackson and a brief murmur into the radio and Jim called out to the group in the room.

                “This is the police!” Jim called in the same strong, sure voice he used in the military. “Come out with your hands up!” He didn’t think they would but it was always worth a try.

                 “Yeah right!” called a voice from inside the room, young and full of false bravado, “I know how this works! We’ve got the hostages, so we give the orders.”

                 “Look at your situation!” Jim called back, still maintaining the tone of control, “You’re stuck in a room with no way out. There’s more of us than there are of you, and if you do anything to those hostages it’ll just be worse later on when we catch you. Turn yourself over now and everything will go much easier for you.” He resisted shifting into a more comfortable position as he waited by the open doorway. The dust from sheetrock, wood, and who knew what else chaffed against his skin. He dialed down his sense of touch several notches and brought up his hearing just a bit to listen in on the hostage takers.

                Behind Jim, Jackson shifter in his position. Rafe and Brown did the same, moving their feet into more comfortable positions and leaning in toward the room. From inside the room, Jim could hear the ragged breathing from the hostages as well as the hushed and urgent conversation from the hostage-takers. The argument was the same that played out in situations like this. Several of the assailants wanted to give up while two, the leader and another hard-spoken man, thought they could use the hostages to get away. There were five in the group of assailants. It sounded like they were gathered in the center of the room as they whispered arguments back and forth. Several of them were scared, the others sounded more determined. Jim could hear their nervous shifting from one foot to another and how they fidgeted where they stood.

                Jim frowned when he started to register the nervous breathing of one, edging faster to panic. That was going too deep, he didn’t want a zone out happening here of all places. That would be nothing short of disastrous, to say the least. With a little effort he pulled his hearing back till the quiet conversation was nothing more than a few mumbles through the wall. It was temping to leave it up high enough to hear what they were saying, but the way his sense were acting lately, he knew it wouldn’t be too long before it started inching up again, anyway.

                Listening to the increasingly frantic mumbles from inside the room, Jim decided the group had enough time to debate amongst themselves. He took in a large breath glancing at Jackson as his fellow detective spoken quietly into his radio, reporting the situation.

                “There’s no need to panic,” Jim said, “This is really more simple than it looks, just give yourselves up, you’re not getting away anyway. The judge will see no one was hurt and you turned yourselves in, he’ll go easy on you. But if you _don’t_ and someone gets hurt, then that’s a different story entirely.”

                Jim heard Simon’s voice crackle over the radio bug in his ear. “Jim, take it easy. The negotiator just arrived, we’re sending him over to you.”

                He opened his mouth to respond but a sharp voice in the room stopped him. Jim’s head shot up and he shifted himself into a more ready position, drawing a side glance from Jackson, seconds before a shot rang out from the room. The first shot was followed by another and sounds of a struggle. Without waiting, Jim ducked into the room with a surprised Jackson. One of the hostage takers was one the ground, a large dark spot quickly spreading over his shoulder. Two others struggled over a pistol, the barrel pointing wildly in all directions, while the remaining two stared on in disbelief.

                “Drop your weapons! Police!” Jim and Jackson yelled, drawing attention to their sudden appearance and echoed by Rafe and Brown seconds later.

                One of the remaining two snapped up his pistol and fired off a wild shot at Jim. Jim jerked to the side as Rafe put a round in the assailant’s shoulder. The fifth man thought better of it as he dropped his handgun and threw his hands in the air. Jackson and Brown were on the two fighting over the gun, dragging them apart while Jim checked over the first injured man. Jim swept the room as soon as he determined the injured man wasn’t a threat, counting each of the hostages and checking over their conditions. They were huddle to one of the outer walls, desperately trying to disappear into the sheet rock after the situation turned ugly. The fast pounding of heart beats rattled in his ears, but none of them seemed hurt.

                A moment later, officers poured in from the two doorways as Jim snapped cuffs on the man who’d thrown down his gun. He finally noticed Simon bellowing in his ear piece for a report, but Rafe beat him to it as he relayed the situation back over the radio.

                Dragging the man around to the front, Jim took one last look to make sure everything was under control. Officers tended the two injured assailants and others looked after the hostages, slowly drawing them up on shaky legs. The air stunk of blood and chemicals as his smell slipped up another notch, drawing attention to itself for the first time since entering the building. With a frown, Jim realized he was wheezing as he drew air in and out of his lungs.

                “Brown, I’m taking this one out and I’ll make a direct report to Simon,” Jim called as he directed his prisoner out the door.

                Jim didn’t bother waiting for an answer before rushing the man through the building and into the fresh air. The prisoner stumbled a few times from the pace, but besides a quick glare behind him didn’t do or say anything more. Jim didn’t care anyway, all he was concerned about was getting out of the building.

The moment Jim left the building, noise and sunlight bombarded him. It made him wince, as he registered dozens of flashes pointed in his direction from news and bystanders. The shock only lasted for a moment, as Jim dragged in a breath of fresh air. Relatively fresh air, he realized, as his smell swung to the more sensitive side from being turned so far down. He could pick up on the heavy smell of exhaust and air pollution that came with every city, as well as remnants of the chemicals, dust and blood from the scene inside still clinging to him and the prisoner.

                A few steps from the building and they were intercepted by a couple of officers ready to take the prisoner off Jim’s hands. A moment after that and Sandburg appeared from the busy crowd. Sandburg hurried to him, pale with a worried expression.

                “Are you alright?” Sandburg asked before he even reached Jim.

                Jim shot him a weak glare before turning away in search for Simon. He focused on keeping everything in control as the inevitable backlash from his sense started to build. His smell was the worse at the moment, but the others were spinning off and on around him as well. “I’m fine,” he ground out, the distractions were hindering his search for the captain.

                “No you’re not, you’re wheezing,” Sandburg contradicted, moving in front of Jim. His eyes widened, “And bleeding! You’re bleeding, Jim!”

                Jim frowned again, bringing a hand to his face as he felt the sticky wetness for the first time. He noticed the sharp sting, as well, while he spun to the nearest cruiser. Checking himself in the window, Jim rolled his eyes at the shallow cut on his face. “It’s just a scratch, Sandburg,” he said with a sigh, too tired to growl at the Guide. “It probably happened when chuckles in there shot at me.”

                “A scratch?” Sandburg repeated, disbelief in his tone and expression. “Don’t you realize what kind of contaminants could get into a cut like that? It could cause infection, a reaction-”

                “I wasn’t planning on leaving it as-is and waiting to see what happens,” Jim grumbled, almost to himself. He was tired, had a splitting headache, his senses were bouncing all over the place, and he still had to report to Simon, the last thing he wanted was an overprotective Guide badgering him about a scratch.

                Scanning the jumbled crowd of police and paramedics, Jim finally caught sight of Simon heading his way. The hostages were being led out of the building followed by the remaining four assailants and Simon paused a moment to speak to one of the patrol men handling them before turning back toward Jim.

                “Ellison!” he yelled to catch Jim’s attention.

                Jim flinched at the loud tone, covering it with a shoulder roll and moving to meet Simon halfway.

                “Lord, Ellison, I didn’t ask you to go in there guns blazing. What happened?” Simon asked, lowering his voice slightly to avoid any unwanted eaves dropping.

                “They panicked, Sir,” Jim said. He could feel Sandburg move up uncomfortably close behind him and had to resist the urged to whip around and tell the Guide to back off. As it was, he had a hard enough time blocking out Sandburg’s heartbeat, which was still going fast from the earlier action. Obviously, there wasn’t much excitement in academics, at least none of the shooting variety. “We went in, set up positions, I told them to give up, they started arguing amongst themselves and a couple shots went off. When I heard the shots, I went in with Jackson. Rafe and Brown entered a few seconds behind us One was already injured, two were fighting over the gun, one fired at me so Rafe returned fire, injuring the suspect, and the last one surrendered.”

                “That’s it?” Simon said, looking at Jim hard.

                “That’s the short version. I’ll be much more detailed in my written report,” Jim nodded ignoring Sandburg’s fidgeting behind him. He brought a hand up to his face and rubbed his eyes.

                Thankfully, Jim’s explanation seemed to appease Simon as some of the tension visibly left the Captain. “As long as none of our people provoked it. The last thing we need right now is some yellow-journalist reporting about trigger-happy detectives.”

                “Sir,” Sandburg interrupted the Captain before he could go on. “Couldn’t we do this some other time?”

                Simon opened his mouth to object, but stopped, taking a good look at Jim. “You look terrible, Ellison.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Simon stared at him, as though seeing him for the first time in a long while. “You’re lucky it wasn’t you who shot the suspect otherwise you’d have to stay and start the paperwork not to mention all the other red tape that goes with an officer-related shooting. You’ll still have your fill thanks to the scratch on your face. As it is…Have your report on my desk tomorrow at noon. Till then, go home and get some rest.” He paused a moment, splitting a measuring glance between Jim and the constant shadow behind him. “Sandburg, make sure he gets there.”

                Jim frowned. Sure, he felt like crap and his face was a little bloody from the cut, but he didn’t think it was that bad. He opened his mouth to protest but a wave of dizziness hit and he swayed for a moment where he stood, Sandburg‘s hand on his arm keeping him upright. “It has been a long day, Sir,” Jim said, hoping to cover his obvious problems with a solid, normal excuse, however weak. “And adrenaline crash doesn’t help.”

                Simon nodded, though Jim wasn’t sure if he was buying it or not. “Just get home and get some sleep.”

                The captain turned and headed back into the center of the activity, yelling orders at patrol men. Jim watched him go, a terrible sinking feeling in his stomach. Another wave of dizziness pushed the thought out of his head for the moment and sent him into the same survival reaction that had kept him hidden for so many years. If he was reacting from something in the building, which, he had to admit to himself, was more than likely, he had to get out of there, get back to his truck and back to his apartment. He had enough supplies and equipment there to deal with anything except for the most severe reactions.

                Sandburg grabbed one arm and helped him back to the truck. Jim shot a glare at his unwanted helper before trying to pull his arm away. “I can walk just fine on my own,” he growled, but Sandburg held firm.

                “C’mon Jim,” Sandburg said sotto voice, “I thought you wanted to attract as little attention as possible.”

                Unable to argue that point, Jim allowed Blair to guide him back to his truck. He only put up a token protest when Sandburg snatched the keys from his hand with a murmured, “Car accidents tend to attract attention, too. Where do you live?”

                Instead, Jim eased himself into the passenger seat, mumbling his home address. He buckled his seat belt then slid down to avoid any prying eyes from the window as Sandburg pulled out into traffic and away from the site. He didn’t bother pushing himself up again when they moved down the street. Focusing, instead, on holding onto the door and telling himself the world wasn’t really doing 360 degree flips. The cut on his face burned as he felt the blood thicken and stiffen on his cheek and his senses flared and died with each passing moment. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, nearly forgetting the presence of the Guide in the driver’s seat. Everything went to controlling the reactions his senses were having to whatever they had come in contact with at the construction site.

                When Sandburg stopped the car and helped him out and into the building, Jim didn’t notice. He didn’t even really register when the Guide asked for his apartment number and helped him up the stairs and through the door. Jim was distantly aware of someone tucking him into a bed. It was a strange detached feeling as the world still spun and faded in and out around him. Gradually, the calm and stillness that descended around him eased his senses and Jim slipped into a deep, exhausted sleep.

TBC…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this took longer to edit than I thought it would. Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't own it.

**Chapter 8**

 Blair took one look at Jim and knew something was wrong. In all honesty, he knew something was wrong before Jim even came out of the building. Something was going to go wrong before Jim went _into_ the building. He didn’t need the warning bell going off in the back of his head for the past hour. The entire operation screamed bad idea when taking Jim’s latent abilities into account. All they needed was something to send them over the edge and he’d be a full-fledged Sentinel with all the inherent problems connected to it. It wouldn’t be a problem if Jim had a Guide, but he didn’t. Blair mentally kicked himself for not reporting his suspicions earlier. Mentioning them to Simon at the start didn’t count since the captain dismissed them so easily. He was tempted to march up to Simon then and there and insist Jim be pulled back because of his senses, but with the chaos from the hostage situation, the crowd and the press it wasn’t the right time. Something like this needed to be addressed in the calm and privacy of Simon’s office. Simon was preoccupied with the crime scene anyway and there would be no making him see reason until the situation was resolved.

When they finally got away from the captain, Blair focused all of his attention on Jim. The blood threw him for a moment, especially knowing that it came from a bullet meant for his Sentinel’s head. Only a few more inches to the side and Blair didn’t want to think what would have happened. It froze his insides, but he pushed the thought away and dragged Jim to the detective’s truck muttering “I thought you wanted to attract as little attention as possible,” when Jim protested.

The jingling of keys caught Blair’s attention. Jim had his keys out and was slowly picking through them with the foolish assumption that he’d be driving home. Blair grabbed the keys from the larger man responding to the glare with a quick, “Car accidents tend to attract attention, too. Where do you live?”

 Surprisingly, Blair didn’t receive as much of an argument as he thought he would just a muttered address, which only increased the worry swirling through his stomach. Helping Jim into the passenger seat, Blair hurried around to the driver’s and pulled out into traffic. Blair kept one eye on the road and the other on Jim as he navigated the early afternoon traffic.

 “Eighty-five Prospect Ave,” Blair muttered to himself. Luckily, he knew the street. There was a good bakery at one end. The address probably went to a tall apartment building not far from the bakery.

Jim didn’t seem to notice the trip. He sank down in his seat, eyes closed, not taking in the world around him. After a few minutes, Blair realized his passenger had settled into a meditative breathing pattern. Glancing over to Jim, Blair couldn’t help the surprised expression that came over his face. Jim didn’t seem the type to practice meditation. Blair was so caught up in his thoughts he missed the street on the first pass but looped around and found a space in front of the building.

Easing Jim out of the seat and pulling an arm around his shoulder, Blair led Jim into the building. Blair gulped slightly at seeing the “Out of Order” sign on the elevator and the stairs off to the right.

"Jim, what apartment?” Blair asked, jostling the other man.

Jim roused, mumbled something about apartment 5A before slumping down farther on to Blair’s shoulder. Blair staggered at the additional weight, grimacing at the five floor walkup with Jim leaning on him the entire way.

After a long climb and several stops along the way, the pair finally reached the door to apartment 5A. Blair fumbled with the keys, juggling between them and keeping Jim upright. He swung the door open and dropped the keys on the first flat surface he could find. Taking in the room with a quick sweep Blair noticed open concept design with the living room in the center and the kitchen to the side. The glimpse of a bedroom sat at the top of a staircase. Blair rolled his eyes.

“More stairs,” Blair muttered to himself, “Of course there would be more stairs.” He thought about dumping Jim on the couch and calling it a night, but Jim would be better off in his own bed. It was just a few more stairs, right? He could handle a few more stairs after five flights. Still, it didn’t stop Blair from grumbling under his breath about oversized police detectives with a fascination for stairs.

Finally, Blair lowered Jim down on the bed. He moved around, pulling off Jim’s shoes and tugging the covers out from under the detective. After a moment’s hesitation, Blair pulled off Jim’s jacket. Jim shifted as Blair draped the covers over him before sinking deeper into the bed, his breathing the same deep and even rhythm from the car ride. Jim was pale with fine tremors running along his body. Blair frowned, eyes creasing in worry, as he watched the detective slip into a deep sleep. He didn’t know how to take Jim’s reaction, it was stronger than he would have expected but not a spike either. Either way, he’d treat it like a spike. It was the safest way to approach any Sentinel reaction and would give him a head start if things took a turn for the worse.

Shaking his head, Blair took off his shoes and closed the thick curtains in the room before heading back down stairs in stocking feet, no sense in making any more noise than necessary. Jim didn’t seem to be in too much pain but he wasn’t really coherent either. With luck Blair could find something around the apartment to help dim the stimulus coming in from the outside. He headed for the next set of drapes hung over a sliding glass door on the first floor. Blair had to blink as the room was plunged into shade, only the light from one other window preventing complete darkness from engulfing the room.

Blair bumped into the couch as his eyes adjusted to the low light and he made his way over to the cabinet. If he could find a radio and get some static playing it would act as a partial white noise generator, not perfect, but it would help drown out the sounds of the street traffic below. Blair had to blink again as he pulled open the door and found not a radio but an actual white noise generator and not just one, but several lining the dark recesses of the shelf. He pulled the first one out, squinting at it in the dim light. It was a good one, top of the line and very strong. Blair frowned at the contraption in front of him. He looked back to the curtains, his frown deepening, a horrible thought forming in his mind.

The frown stayed on his face as Blair set up the white noise generators, six in all, spacing them around the apartment. By the time he’d finished, Blair couldn’t control the unease and suspicion that settled in his stomach. Almost on their own, his feet found their way into the kitchen. He fumbled for the overhead stove light in the dark room. The soft yellow glow acted like an island in the dark shadow around him. Pulling open the cupboards and fridge, he ran his eyes over the contents. No salt, no sugar, no preservatives, no pepper, no spices, only rice, pasta, chicken broth, mild vegetables, a small jar of local honey, Blair counted off the list of food items he found, hardly believing what he was seeing. He just barely remembered not to slam the last door when he finished his inspection. His eyes swept over the curtains and white noise generators also taking in the sparse furnishings and decorations. The realization hit him all at once, like walking into a glass door, only traveling at the speed of sound.

Jim Ellison was a Sentinel, not latent, not in the process of developing his senses, a full-blown, five heightened senses, listen-to-your-heartbeat-across-the-freakin’-room Sentinel!

Blair had to sit down for a moment, lowering his tired body into one of the living room chairs. His mind spun with the realization and all he could feel was disbelief, but the apartment, Jim‘s behavior, the strange vibes he‘d been picking up since meeting the detective, they all led to one conclusion. It was all so obvious Blair couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it before, and if he hadn’t been so caught up in what he “knew” to be true he might have. Was Jim deliberately hiding this? It seemed like it. It didn’t make any sense, though. Why would a Sentinel, fully online and functional, go to such an extent to hide themselves? Blair certainly didn’t know, and he couldn’t think of any reason why, either. As a police detective, having senses would help Jim do his job and hiding them would make it infinitely more difficult, not to mention more dangerous. Hell, the day to day life hazards made reporting Sentinel senses worth it.

Blair’s puzzlement soon gave way to anger and, though Blair knew he had no real reason, he couldn’t help feeling betrayed. Jim hadn’t told him. True, they hadn’t known each other very long, just about two weeks, really. Still, Blair hadn’t been unapproachable. He tried to be the exact opposite. Looking around again, Blair shook his head. Jim had been a full Sentinel for much longer than two weeks. Yet that was all the more reason why he should have mentioned something to Blair, someone, anyone! Didn’t Jim know the risk he was taking not telling anyone? How dangerous it was for a Sentinel without a Guide?

Aggravation drove Blair to his feet again and sent his pacing across the living room. “That stupid, stubborn…What the _Hell_ was he thinking?!” He bit off his almost rant with a glance at Jim’s room as he realized his voice was growing louder with every word. The need for quiet didn’t settle his racing thoughts, though.

Jim knew what he was, knew what the dangers were. He’d known when he’d gone off to crime scenes all through the week, into that construction site earlier that day. Who knew how long Jim had been hiding his condition from the world. He kept everyone at arm’s length with his reputation and unapproachable nature, was thi the reason why? Blair certainly knew how hard Jim tried to keep him away. Maybe it was partly _because_ he was a Guide that Jim was always so unpleasant to Blair. That would make sense considering what Jim was hiding. But the hiding the senses in the first place still didn’t make any sense! Sentinels weren’t discriminated against in public or the work force, almost the opposite, particularly in the police force. There was plenty of support and aid to anyone who needed it. If he got injured the hospital could accidentally kill him if they didn’t know he was a Sentinel. Any way Blair looked at it, he couldn’t see any reason why someone would actively go and hide abilities like that from the world.

"Probably why he got away with it for so long,” Blair muttered to himself, frustrated.

Blair’s eye’s drifted over to the phone sitting on Jim’s kitchen counter. He should call the GSC, tell them about Jim, get the detective the help he needed, even if Jim didn’t realize it. Blair knew he should do it, everything he had been taught in all of his training classes told him a Sentinel couldn’t survive alone for very long.

Still, Blair hesitated. Jim _had_ survived on his own. Blair didn’t know for how long but certainly long enough, none of the modifications for Sentinels in the apartment looked new. Part of Blair, the scientific part that loved anthropology and understanding, desperately wanted to know _how_ Jim survived. Modern understanding of Sentinels said it wasn’t possible with the increased amount of input and pollutants from the modern world. Yet, Jim was clearly functional in day to day life and even excelling in his career. The detective even managed his own adverse reaction to the chemicals at the construction site, for the most part. Blair wanted, needed to know how he did it.

Plus, if Blair turned Jim into the GSC, Jim would never talk to him again, not that he spoke very much now, but it would be worse. Jim would absolutely _despise_ him. Blair didn’t want that. A part of Blair still thought that if he kept at it he could crack the wall Jim placed between himself and everyone else, but if Blair turned Jim over to the GSC there wouldn’t be any chance for that. They would take him away. Give him a different Guide, one trained to deal with late bloomers. That as much as anything decided it for Blair.

While Blair didn’t know if he liked Jim very much, it was difficult to like anyone who kept everyone at arm’s length the way Jim did, Blair did respect the detective. He knew Jim’s determined focus on ensuring the guilty were caught, the innocent left in peace, and the victims gained justice. Jim had principles and he followed them regardless of the consequences. There was a good man beneath the ice, Blair was certain of it, and he wasn’t going to destroy any chance he had of getting to know the man better.

“So no GSC for now,” Blair said to himself. That meant he was on his own in dealing with Jim. Even without the GSC, Blair knew Jim wouldn’t be happy with someone knowing, much less a Guide. This would take some careful thinking and planning. He looked up to the doorway into Jim’s bed room. The room was still and silent, pitch black from the curtains. He blinked, realizing how dark the entire apartment had become as the sun went down. Only a faint orange glow remained from the one uncovered window and the island of light above the stove. Blair navigated his way over to the dim outline of a lamp, switching it on. He wasn’t surprised when the lamp only emitted a soft yellow glow. That and the kitchen light were enough for him to use, though. There was time before Jim woke. Blair had time to figure out exactly what he needed to do and after that he could wait for however long it took.

* * *

 Jim’s tired brain struggled its way to consciousness. The world around him was calm and quiet. It was so quiet, it took him a moment to remember what happened. Jim was pretty sure it was impossible to wake up after the reaction he had at the raid to a world this calm or quiet. Either his senses should be spinning out of control, even in a minor way, Simon should be raging at him for hiding the whole Sentinel thing, or nurses and GSC reps should be poking and prodding him from all sides. None of that was the case, though. Jim was in his own bed, the telltale bubble of white noise generators running all through the apartment. At the moment, all he wanted to do was lay there and revel in the quiet. Silence as complete as this didn’t come often for a Sentinel, so he intended to take advantage of it while he could.

Jim shifted under the covers, a part of his brain wondering on how he’d been coherent enough to crawl under the covers, or set out white noise generators, or get home even. As he pondered those things, he realized that it wasn’t as perfectly quiet as he originally thought. There was a low thumping just below the perception of normal hearing. It beat a steady rhythm, though, and with the even cadence gave him something anchor himself. He relaxed into the sound, his still fuzzy brain ready to go back to sleep when another sound caught his attention, this one much more recognizable and much less welcome. More than just the sound he could feel the weight spread out over his feet at the bottom of the bed.

Unwillingly, Jim cracked open one eye, then two as he craned his neck to see the bottom of the bed. The room was dark, much darker than it should have been. While he could maybe believe that he’d been with-it enough to pull the blankets over him and kick off his shoes, however unlikely, Jim had a much more difficult time believing that he would have remembered to close the shades before collapsing into bed. This thought left him as his eyes adjusted to the almost nonexistent light and he caught hold of two glowing eyes of his over-sized housecat lounging across his feet at the foot of the bed. The rumbling purr emitting from its throat only increased as it caught Jim’s gaze.

Jim scowled at the cat. He was not in the mood to deal with spirit animals harboring delusions of house pet. Besides, the cat was late. It was supposed to show up yesterday, or whenever, _before_ Jim walked into a construction site filled with dust and chemicals.

“Shove off, fur ball, I’m not in the mood,” Jim mumbled, though it barely penetrated his mouth, much less the quiet of the room. He tried kicking his feet to emphasize his point but the cat only settled down more.

Then, to Jim’s near horror another pair of glowing eyes joined them on the bed, except these belonged to _wolf_. A wolf that trotted in from the doorway and was now laying down next to the panther with a settled familiarity.

For a moment, Jim only stared. He’d only ever saw one spirit animal, the panther. However, unless timber wolves had taken to wandering the streets of Cascade and entering random apartment buildings to snuggle up with inhabitants’ spirit guides, Jim couldn’t find any other explanation than it being another one of _them_.

But where the HELL had it _come_ from?!

“No!” was all Jim could get out as he stared in disbelief at the two spirit guides lounging on his covers, “You are _not_ allowed to have any friends over!” He knew talking to spirit animals this way was irrational, but in his shock he couldn’t seem to come to any other reaction.

The panther didn’t really take any notice. Simply let out a very wide yawn before swiping a tongue over the wolf’s head and directing a challenging eye in Jim’s direction.

Jim grabbed a pillow, not quite sure what he would do with it considering both animals were spirits, when he froze. That thumping noise he heard earlier was a heartbeat in his apartment.

Suddenly, Jim felt wide awake.

Yanking his feet out from under the heavy cat, Jim threw them over the side of the bed. Touching down to the floor, Jim stumbled over a pair of shoes left on the floor. He picked up the shoes and looked at them a moment.

“Sandburg,” Jim growled to himself, “Son of a bitch.”

Jim took the shoes and stalked toward the stairs, worst case scenarios ran through his head like a hundred yard dash. He stopped when he realized he still wore the slacks from yesterday and whatever residue left on them was starting to itch again. He stripped off his slacks and shirt replacing them with a pair of sweats and old unit tee-shirt from the military before stepping out onto the landing.

There was a light on in the living room and the kitchen giving a dim glow to one half of the space. All the curtains were drawn and even a towel thrown over a side of the lamp to prevent unnecessary glare from shining into his bed room. The white noise generators lay spread around the room. He could hear them creating a small bubble safe from the ambient sounds of the outside world. Any notice Jim may have taken of the Sandburg’s consideration was drowned out by the realization that Sandburg _knew_. The thought sent rocks dropping through Jim’s stomach.

Jim looked down at the living room and heard the muffled clatter of someone in the kitchen, heart racing. He didn’t know what he was going to do. He didn’t have a leg to stand on. Now that Sandburg knew, all the kid had to do was make a phone call, if he hadn’t already, and that was it. Jim could try to intimidate him, but he knew that wouldn’t work. Sandburg already lasted two weeks of Jim’s cold shoulder and it hadn’t scared him off yet. Maybe if he explained to the Guide the situation, they could come to an understanding…

_Fat chance_ , Jim said to himself, _he‘s going to tell, he‘s a_ Guide _it‘s his_ job _to tell_.

Maybe, if Jim tried a little bit of intimidation mixed with a deal. That could work, right? Jim honestly didn’t know, but he sure wasn’t going down without a fight.

Heading down the stairs, Jim decided to start out with the aggressive approach. He was mad enough that he didn’t think he could go with any other emotion at the moment. The sounds from the kitchen continued as he crossed the living room.

“Sandburg! What the hell are you doing in my apartment?”

Sandburg gave a satisfying jump, spilling hot water over his hands from the mug, as he spun around. “Jim!” he gasped, wincing from the water. “You’re awake.”

“Clearly,” Jim growled, drawing from years of experience in the interrogation room to assume the right posture. “Mind answering the question now?”

Sandburg rolled his eyes, the worried look on his face hardening as he turned back to finish making his tea. “Oh I don’t know, I just thought it might be a bad idea to leave a Sentinel alone while they’re in the middle of a reaction.”

Jim’s scowl deepened at the reply. Time for the first line of defense, deny everything. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sandburg.”

Sandburg shot Jim a flat, unimpressed look. “Let’s cut the crap. I know and you know I know. Listen to my heartbeat if you don’t believe me.”

Alright, denial wasn’t working. Next step: deflection. “Still didn’t give you permission to enter into my private residence.”

“Probable cause and concern for the health and safety of the individual at risk of an ongoing medical condition,” Sandburg shot back, dunking one of Jim’s tea bags into one of Jim’s cups. The man had been snooping through Jim’s kitchen.

Clearly Sandburg spent too much time to his own devices the last two weeks reading up on police procedure. Now Jim regretted ignoring the observer instead of giving the Sandburg busy work. “I was handling it,” Jim growled.

Sandburg paused at that before continuing his movements and squirting honey into his brewing tea. With a reluctant half nod he agreed in the most annoyingly reasonable voice Jim had ever heard, “Actually you were. I didn’t have to do anything for you sensory wise, except setup the safe guards,” he swept a hand around the apartment, “but I didn’t see you driving yourself home, or getting yourself in bed.”

Jim opened his mouth to interrupt, but Sandburg continued on regardless.

“So Jim, exactly how long have you been hiding the fact that you’re a Sentinel?”

“That is none of your business,” Jim ground out, stiffening if possible more than before with his arms crossed in front of him. He was losing control of this conversation, if he ever had control of it in the first place.

Sandburg tensed, an edge of anger coming into his tone as his gaze narrowed, “Oh, I think it’s my business, considering I’m a Guide.”

“And that automatically gives you the right to pry into every aspect of my life, does it?” Jim exploded, throwing his hands up. He always did have a tempter but right now it was going to help him put Sandburg on the defensive.

The anger came through and shattered Sandburg‘s calm façade, his voice rose and took a harsh tone, “It’s too dangerous, Jim! Don‘t you realize the number of things that could go wrong? The number of unknown factors, especially in a city, that react badly with your senses? Don‘t you get it? It‘s for-”

“For my own good,” Jim cut, trying to keep his voice at a reasonable level in case the neighbors heard but unable to rid it of the bitterness. “Bullshit. I’ve seen how Sentinels live under your care. They’re not allowed to make their own decisions, live their own lives. Do you honestly think people are really going to want to live like that? Maybe in other places, but not here. We’ve gotten just a little too used to the whole idea of personal freedom.”

Sandburg opened his mouth to deny the accusation but Jim pushed forward.

“Can you honestly tell me that if I had gone to you Guides at the GSC that you would have let me live wherever I wanted, eat what I wanted, worked where I wanted, done what I wanted?”

For a moment, Sandburg didn’t seem to know how to respond to that. His mouth snapped shut with a click and a heavy silence fell between the two. The white noise generators worked in the background and the shadows hung thick outside the dim circle of light.

“You…” Sandburg faltered, grimacing, “You would have had options.”

“Options like I had in the Army?” Jim scoffed, “I’ve known what those options are like. I could give my opinion but in the end I’m at service of the powers that be. That’s fine in the military. At least, they’re honest about it. I volunteered to go into the military and then had a chance to leave when my time was done. I never volunteered to be a Sentinel. That’s something that was forced on me. You and your GSC like to pretend you’re honestly giving people a choice instead of plain old coercion or manipulating them with threats about their health. Nobody’s going to want to live that way, not their whole life.” 

* * *

 

Blair remained silent for a long time after that, his forgotten tea cooling in his hand. Jim said more and spoke more openly in those few moments than Blair had heard from him in the past few weeks. The man spoke as though he’d been keeping those sentiments bottled inside him for a long time, exploding out with all of the frustration and anger along with it. This was Jim’s powder keg. The thing he carried around with him every day at work and Blair just lit a match to it.

Blair didn’t know how to respond. He’d never thought of it that way. It just didn’t make sense to him. People who were sick got medical help. People who were in danger called the police. There wasn’t any sense in condemning yourself to a life of pain and difficulty when there was open and easy help within reach. _Then again, those people didn’t give up control of their entire life to a group of relative strangers_ , he debated with himself. True, he had to admit that some people refused police protection for that exact reason, they didn’t see living life in protective custody as life at all. Still, those were relatively temporary, limited problems. A Sentinel’s situation was in many ways much more complex and dangerous. It would be like refusing treatment for cancer. It went against every self protective instinct in human nature. It wasn’t as though the GSC forced people by gun point. There weren‘t any laws requiring Sentinels to live a certain way. Still, the uneasy feeling of doubt grew.

Suddenly, Blair realized the full impact of Jim‘s words. He‘d spoken in the plural, this entire time Blair, himself, had been thinking in the plural, multiple Sentinels, not just one. “Jim,” Blair said, his face paling as the horrible thought struck him, “Are there others?”

“Others?” Jim grunted, his expression closing off and refusing to take Blair’s meaning.

“Others!” Blair nearly yelled, “Other Sentinels, hiding!”

Jim stared at him for a moment, a hard glint in his eye. The response was flat and definitive. “No.” Jim was a good liar according to his body language, but emotions were different. While Jim’s control over his own emotions, was admirable, the feelings of dread and foreboding still seeped into the room.

“You’re lying,” Blair hissed. He didn’t need Jim’s confirmation, he already knew. That gut feeling that he had about so many things, the same one that tried to warn him about Jim if he hadn’t ignored it for so long, told him it was true. “How many?”

Jim didn’t answer. His shoulders squared and stiff, his back ramrod straight, jaw tense and hands clenched ready for a fight. Blair knew he wouldn’t be getting any answers from the stubborn man in front of him. The anthropological observer in Blair noticed the same steel-strong loyalty that was so common in Sentinels clamping down to protect those in their care, like when a Sentinel’s Guide was in danger, but here the Sentinel was not protecting his Guide. He was protecting other _Sentinels_ from the _Guides_. The idea was so foreign, so irrational that Blair couldn’t say anything for several minutes.

Blair finally shattered the crushing silence that flooded the room. “That many, huh?” he whispered, unable to speak any louder.

What had happened? Why would Sentinels suddenly decide to hide from their Guides, the very people who were trying to help them? Was it something the Guides had done? It must be. Blair felt a surge of failure in his chest. He knew it was probably not due to any personal mistake, but knowing that the Guide community in general could have caused such a rift of distrust cut deeply. What had they done wrong? Had they really become as controlling as Jim claimed? Jim certainly believed it. In the anger coming from the other man, Blair recognized suspicion and hostility directed specifically at him.

“Why?” Blair finally choked out, his throat dry and voice cracking.

Jim looked at him for a long moment, his gaze cold and serious. “It’s like I said, nobody wants to be told how to live their own life,” he finally said in a flat voice.

“It’s not as bad as that,” Blair responded automatically, though the words seemed hollow as he thought of all the new regulations pushed through in the past ten years concerning Sentinel living habits. No, there weren’t any laws, yet, but there might as well have been.

“No?” Jim asked, a hard edge in his voice. “Not too long ago they found another Sentinel living nearby, a late bloomer. Took him to the community home and went through all his belongings, getting rid of what they deemed “unsafe” for a Sentinel. They didn’t even give him a choice in the matter.”

“That was-” Blair started. He was going to say “standard procedure” but stopped himself short when he realized it would only prove Jim’s point. “Wrong,” he finally admitted as he deflated, “They shouldn‘t have done that.”

Jim didn’t say anything more. He didn’t need to, Blair reflected as his gaze drifted to some unfixed point. He thought he understood, at least in part. Thinking of his own mother and her constant efforts to evade the restrictions from the all powerful “man“, he could see why people would go to the lengths Jim did to hide their condition. It was a sobering thought and frightening when he realized of where it had lead, where it could lead.

_Where it_ could _lead_ , Blair reminded himself, there was time to change it. They could redirect, change their approach, find a way that would both help Sentinels and allow them to keep their autonomy and independence. Still, that didn’t mean that Jim should be left to struggle with his senses alone. If anything, the incident at the raid showed that even with his impressive control he could use the help and support of a Guide. Plus, the scientist in Blair still wondered how Jim managed to get through days, months, years, of surviving with Sentinel senses without the help of a Guide or the specialized treatment provided to known Sentinels. How was the man still healthy? How was he still sane?

“You’re right,” Blair said, nodding his head as he ran over his plan in his head. “You’re completely right. I won’t tell them”

The statement threw Jim for a loop. His hands dropped to his sides. “You won’t… You haven’t? You didn’t call?” Jim asked, the astonishment and disbelief apparent in his tone.

“No,” Blair said after a pause. He moved to where Jim dropped Blair’s shoes on the floor. Putting them on, Blair straightened and looked directly at the Sentinel. “But come tomorrow there’s going to be some new rules. One: You don’t leave the building without me right beside you-”

Jim opened his mouth to interrupt, his eyes darkening with the new turn of events.

Blair continued on a little louder, “I want to see how you cope. Plus, we can’t have another episode like today occurring. Two: I’m moving in for a little while just as a precaution. Three…” he didn’t really have a three but he made one up anyway, “you have to start being nicer to people, no sense in your bad mood ruining everyone else‘s day. Four…well, we’ll make it up as we go along.”

“You can’t seriously expect me-” Jim started.

Blair folded his arms over his chest, appearing as much an immovable object as possible, “Or I can make a phone call right now.”

Jim‘s voice lowered to a hiss, “That’s blackmail.”

Thinking over it for a second, Blair nodded, “Yes, yes it is, and while I usually don’t approve of those things, in this case I’m willing to make an exception. Don’t go anywhere. It’s almost midnight. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.” Then, without another word and before Jim could answer, Blair spun on the spot and left the apartment.

 

TBC….

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own The Sentinel.

**Chapter 9**  

                Jim woke the next morning fully expecting a visit from the GSC, mainly consisting of a few overly-smiling Guides and several very large assistants. He took his shower the previous night while Sandburg was gone to get rid of the chemical residues for a good night‘s sleep. So instead of heading for his typical morning shower, he moved directly for his clothing bureau across from his bed. Jim dressed with the air of a man preparing for his own execution, choosing one of his more comfortable shirts and jeans for work. If you’re going to be carted away against your will might as well be comfortable.

                But that was not the case. No one showed up at Jim’s door, there was no one out in the street, the phone did not ring.

                When Jim walked out of his room and looked down on his apartment, it was just Sandburg on his couch, a bag of overnight-necessities dropped nearby on the floor. Jim rolled his eyes and moved down to the kitchen to make some breakfast. While walking past the sleeping Guide, Jim looked over the many books and notes spread across the coffee table. Sandburg came back the night before with a bag of extra clothes and essentials and another filled with research materials concerning Sentinels. He tried bombarding Jim with questions about his control and past experiences, but Jim simply turned down his hearing and ignored the other man, heading to bed immediately. Obviously, when he couldn’t get answers directly from Jim, Sandburg turned to his precious books.

                For a moment, Jim considered letting the man continue to sleep and waking him five minutes before heading to the precinct. Watching Sandburg scramble to get ready might be entertaining. Or, he could just leave all together and not wake the Guide at all. Then he’d have an hour or two at the office without a tagalong tripping at his heels. He smiled slightly at the thought as he stepped back into the kitchen. It’d be nice working alone again.

                 Jim shook his head a moment later as he fished a mug out from the cabinet. It could very well backfire. He didn’t know Sandburg all that well. For all he knew, Sandburg could get offended and call the GSC. The way it was now, only one person knew his secret. He didn’t want to take the risk before he knew how far he could push the other man. Till then, they were going to have to work together.

                Plus, Sandburg would need time to clean up his mess. Jim wasn’t leaving his home in this state of disarray.

                Coffee made and in his mug, Jim moved back to Sandburg’s side. He picked up one of the larger text books left out on the coffee table. Looking over the title without really reading it, Jim bounced it up and down in his hand, testing the weight as Sandburg snored softly on the couch. He judged the distance, holding the book high above the ground near where Sandburg’s head lay half on the couch pillow. With a little toss into the air, Jim let the book go. It dropped to the wood floor like a stone, landing flat on its cover and creating a painfully loud BAM on impact. Jim winced at the loud sound, but his flinch was nothing compared to Sandburg’s startled cry as he jolted upright on the couch, eyes wide.

                “What the hell?” Sandburg gasped, blinking at his surroundings in a good interpretation of an owl.

                “Get up, we have to get to the office,” Jim ordered, turning back to the kitchen to top off his coffee. Maybe he could drink it all before Sandburg got to it. “And you need to clean up your paper-party before we go, too. I’m not leaving the house in a mess.”

                “What time is it?” Blair slurred behind him.

                “Six thirty.”

                “Six thirty?” Jim heard Sandburg mumble under his breath, “That’s way too early.”

                Jim raised his voice from the kitchen as he cleaned up his few dishes, “I leave for the office in twenty minutes. If you’re not ready, I’m leaving you behind.”

Blair mumbled a few choice phrases beneath his breath that Jim was sure were meant for him. So he ignored them and continued cleaning up the kitchen. In the living room, Sandburg finally got off the couch and shuffle into the bathroom with one last mutinous retort about a shower, whether Jim liked it or not.

                Jim took the opportunity to retreat to his bed room, grabbing several white noise generators on his way. Once safely in his room he place the generators along the opening to the door, hoping to block out as much noise from the shower as possible. He then focused on one of the relaxation techniques he’d mastered over the years. Something he could work through quickly, preparing him for the day before he left for work. It was harder to achieve the necessary level of relaxation with Sandburg in the apartment, but after a few minutes he managed it and set about centering his senses. Even with the small amount of silence and solitude he was able to regain some of the balance he’d need for the day ahead.

                “Are you _meditating_?” an incredulous voice cut through Jim’s thoughts as he worked through the final stages of bringing himself back to the world.

                Jim fought back a wave of irritation, forcing himself to maintain a calm center as he opened his eyes. Still, he couldn’t help the glare worthy of spontaneous combustion that came over his face, not that he tried very hard. “For your information, Sandburg,” Jim said with only a twinge of sarcasm, “controlling enhanced senses takes concentration and balance.”

                Sandburg seemed at a loss for words for a moment as Jim scooped up the white noise generators and brushed past him down to the living room. Jim pushed the generators to the very back of their cupboard and headed for his jacket.

                “Well…I know _that_ …I just didn’t picture you as the meditation type…” Sandburg muttered following him down the stairs to the living room.

                Jim pulled on his light weight jacket, scanning the room for any telltale signs of his condition. At least Sandburg cleaned up the papers and books, stacking them on the coffee table. Jim grabbed his keys out of the basket by the door. “It’s better than the other methods of coping out there.”

                Jim could hear Sandburg scrambling for his bag and coat as he stepped out into the hall. Jim shut the door as Sandburg hurried next to him, bag and jacket bundled in the Guide’s arms. Jim checked the door was locked then started down the stairs. Sandburg fumbled to get his jacket on as Jim moved away.

                “Other methods? What other methods?” Sandburg called out skipping a few steps to catch up with Jim.

                Jim flinched as some of the cold water from Sandburg’s hair splattered his neck from behind. His frown deepened as he glanced at the close doors they pass on each floor. Jim shook his head, this was not a conversation for a public place, even if that public place was a deserted stair well at 6:50 in the morning when everyone else in their apartment was still asleep. “Never mind, just get in the truck.”

                Jim had never considered murder as a good solution to anything, but it was looking better and better with each minute spent in traffic with Sandburg. The man didn’t seem capable of remaining silent as he fired off one question after another, sometimes with no seeming correlation between the two of them.

                “If you were afraid I would find out, why didn’t you just take time off when I first got here?” Sandburg asked, a curious frown covering his face, the same curious frown he wore for the past five minutes.

                “Simon wouldn’t give me the time off,” Jim grumbled with an immense amount of regret in his voice. He checked the rearview mirror as he navigated through traffic. Sandburg was already on the next question.

                “Do you know any other Sentinels personally? Do you keep in contact with each other?”

                Jim rolled his eyes, refusing to answer. He certainly wasn’t dumb enough to go around associating with other people who could potentially get themselves caught and himself along with them. He’d seen the same scenario play out in gangs and drug rings while working for the department. Then, even if he did happen to know another Sentinel by chance, he wouldn’t just go and blithely tell a Guide, any Guide.

                Blair huffed at the continued silence. “Fine, if you don’t want to answer any questions about other Sentinels then don’t, let’s focus on you for the moment. How long have you been practicing meditation?”

Jim heaved a sigh as they hit yet another red light. The drive seemed to be taking twice as long as normal. Clearly, karma was bitch-slapping him in the face, probably for being a bastard to Sandburg. “If I tell you, will you leave the questions alone for a while?”

                “If you tell me about the meditation thing and how you cope,” Sandburg agreed, pulling out a ragged spiral bound note book, “but it might take more than one question,” he added quickly.

                “You’ve got five,” Jim’s tone broke no argument as they waited behind a semi-truck blocking the street.

                “Five?” Sandburg groaned, “C’mon! What am I supposed to get out of five questions?”

                Keeping his eyes straight on the road, watching the trailer back up slowly, Jim didn‘t offer any sympathy, “Plenty if you ask the right question. I’ve conducted interrogations with less. And there‘s a time limit till we get to the Department.”

                “Fine,” Sandburg harrumphed to himself, before raising his voice with the first of his five questions, “How long have you been meditating to control your senses?”

                “Since they came online.”

Sandburg waited for Jim to elaborate, but the pause just stretched out in tense silence. “Ok. What other methods are there for managing your senses, besides meditation?”

                Jim sighed again as the truck driver started arguing with someone in the road. Yeah, karma was a bitch. “Use your head, Sandburg. How do people normally cope with stress and pain?”

                “You don’t mean drugs?” Sandburg asked, half disbelief, half horror.

                Shrugging, Jim put the truck in park and settled back against his seat. “Drugs, alcohol, cutting, whatever can take the mind off it or give you a focal point. I’m sure there’s some out there that use less dangerous methods, acupuncture or acupressure or whatever it is would probably help, too, but that would mean telling someone else, unless they could do it themselves. Having a specific object that you focus on could work. I’ve used paper cuts when I really needed focusing. It depends on if you’re trying to focus or if you’re trying to distract yourself from the pain.”

                Sandburg sat in stunned silence for a moment, his eyes swinging back to the truck-blocked road. “But…don’t they realize what those things can do to them? It’s a death sentence.”

                Jim rubbed his face hard with one hand, suddenly he was very tired. “Sure, doesn’t mean that’ll stop them, though. In their minds, they’re trading one death sentence for another, probably. Everyone’s different. They find ways to cope, some of those ways are healthy some of them are not. We’re human beings, not some…biological tool or weapon at society’s disposal. Besides, sometimes choosing your own way out is better than living a life that isn’t really yours.”

                Sandburg drew in a sharp breath, looking as though he’d been slapped. Seeing his expression gave Jim a slight, only a slight, twinge of guilt.

                “Look, it’s nothing personal. It’s just…Oh, for crying out loud,” Jim undid his seat belt and climbed out of the truck, heading toward the two arguing men. 

* * *

                Blair watched as Jim approached the argument unfolding in the street. In some ways, Blair was still trying get over the shock from and Jim’s last comment hadn’t helped in any way. The true ramifications of a person in Jim’s situation hadn’t occurred to Blair. He hadn’t thought about how far someone would be willing to go. He was struck again by a strong sense of failure. Somehow, they’d failed. Sentinels didn’t trust their own Guides, the same people who were supposed to be there to help them. Jim certainly didn’t trust him. Blair could feel it rolling off the man, even felt the remains of it radiating off the now empty driver‘s seat next to him. True, Blair was black mailing Jim, not something that generally inspired much trust, but it hadn’t started out that way. He’d tried to be friendly and open and he really did just want to help.

                Blair watched as Jim inserted himself into the argument, trying to settle the dispute before it blossomed into anything larger. What Blair needed to do was find a way to help Jim, prove that he could make the Sentinel’s life better than it was without turning him into the GSC or giving Jim’s abilities away to anyone. He needed to show that they could find a middle ground, both for himself as much as for Jim. If they could work that out, then other Sentinels and Guides could do the same.

                Perhaps, that was how it used to be decades ago, before Sentinels started disappearing. The classes Blair took at the GSC hadn’t focused on the subject or implied it was similar to today, but all those text books were written by the GSC or similar sources, and they had already shown themselves to be a less than trustworthy source for that topic of information. Blair did know some outside sources such as anthropological papers gave a much more varied description of the Sentinel and Guide relationship. What he needed were the original documents, sources from before the GSC was established located in his office back at the college. If he started out from scratch, threw out everything he thought he knew about Sentinels and worked on the assumption that everything he’d learned up to that point was skewed and flawed, maybe he’d find where they had gone wrong and where they could fix it.

                The truck door opening and closing jerked Blair out of his thoughts as Jim climbed back in the truck, grumbling under his breath. Ahead of them the semi-truck finally shifted into gear and pulled away, freeing the road for through traffic. They were moving for several minutes before Blair realized he still had questions and his time was growing short as they drew nearer to the station.

                “Oh, yeah,” he muttered to himself, “Questions.” Blair skimmed over his few notes, trying to pick up where they’d left off.

                “Better make it a good one, you’ve only got one more,” Jim said next to him, sounding half put out that Blair remembered and half pleased to inform Blair he’d reached his last.

                Blair frowned, running over the previous conversation through his head. “No, I still have three left!”

                Jim flicked off his fingers as he counted the questions off for Blair. “How long I’d been meditating, any other possible methods, the one about drugs, and then the one asking if they knew what they were doing.”

                Blair threw his hands up, dropping his pen in frustration. “Those weren’t real questions!” he protested in frustration.

                “Sounded like questions to me,” Jim growled back.

                “Well, they weren’t the ones I meant to ask,” Blair snapped, as they pulled into the department parking garage.

                “Not my problem, Sandburg,” Jim said, fighting a smug smile as he killed the engine and jumped out of the truck.

                Blair sat and glared for a moment, trying to reign in his frustration before hurrying to follow. He had to jog to catch up to Jim and barely made it before the doors to the elevator closed on him, striking Blair with a strong sense of déjà-vu from the first time he met the detective. He pushed back the annoyance he felt, realizing he should have recognized what Jim was on that first meeting, and settled for aggravation at the detective’s stubbornness.

                “You’re going to have to answer my questions sometime,” Blair ground out crossing his arms over his chest.

                “We’ll see about that,” Jim replied with a shrug. He kept his eyes on the ascending floor numbers. If Blair didn’t know better, he’d say Jim was actually starting to enjoy himself.

                “You’re underestimating how annoying I can become,” Blair threatened.

                “And you’re underestimating how far I can turn down my hearing,” Jim countered as the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

                Blair glared at Jim’s back but refrained from another comment, not wanting to draw attention despite the bullpen being nearly empty. If he was going to gain Jim’s trust he was going to have to treat Jim’s secret as his own. Instead, he settled down in his usual seat, determined not to let the man get to him anymore.

                The office slowly filled up and the work day set off to a slow start, the easy normalcy struck Blair when he thought about the flurry at the crime scene yesterday. It was almost like the hostage situation had never even happened. He shook his head to himself, amazed at how quickly the officers moved on from crisis situations. There was a tense moment when Captain Banks stopped by briefly to ask how Jim was doing, Simon’s gaze switching between the two men suspiciously, but he moved on to his office after a few vague answers. Jim shot Blair a glare, as though blaming him of the entire thing and after that, no other mention was made of the entire incident except to clarify something in a report.

                Blair tried his best to act as though nothing had changed, but it grew increasingly difficult as the day went on, his mood darkening and his temper shortening. Jim, on the other hand, was in much better spirits than the previous night. After the man’s initial aggravation wore off, and especially after the conversation in the elevator, Jim seemed to realize that he had something to hold over Blair. Now, instead of ignoring Blair’s existence and avoiding him altogether, Jim kept a close eye on Blair at all times. Blair thought Jim was probably making sure he would keep his promise and not inform anyone of Jim’s abilities. Blair even noticed Jim using his senses once or twice to listen into conversations Blair had with other members in the department. However, when Blair tried to ask even the vaguest questions about Jim’s ability the man suddenly became deaf and ignorant to his presence. If Blair didn’t know better he would say Jim was mocking him.

                Lunch came and Blair couldn’t take it anymore. He stood, shuffling his notes around before stuffing them into his bag. “I have to go run an errand. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Jim stopped his typing and turned to face Blair. “Where are you going?” he asked, instantly suspicious, his eyes hardening.

                Blair rolled his eyes, pausing as more people left the large room for lunch. “I’m just going to go get some additional information, to help me help you,” Blair added in a huff, “Especially since you‘re being less than cooperative.” He patted down his pockets, looking for the keys to his car still sitting in the department garage from the day before. Not finding them, he realized they were still in pants from the raid, sitting on the couch of Jim’s apartment. He’d have to take the bus.

                “I know you’re new to this whole detective thing, Sandburg, but if you hadn’t noticed, I don’t need your help,” Jim said, turning back to his computer.

                Blair dropped his voice so as not to be over in the nearly deserted office, “Well, considering that you admit to having little or no experience with other…people with your talents, you can hardly be trusted to know what’s good, bad, or normal. I think I’d like to double check for myself, thanks very much.”

                “Someone’s in a bad mood,” Jim muttered under his breath, a mocking lilt to his words.

                “You’ve been using your senses all day today!” Blair accused, “I’ve been watching you.”

                Jim shrugged.

                “Don’t try to deny it!” Blair hissed frustration truly rising to the surface making it difficult to keep his voice down. “You’re doing it on purpose. You never did it before.”

                “That’s because I had to look out for the nosy Guide that _wasn’t_ supposed to and didn’t know,” Jim bit back, “Now, I _still_ have to look out for the nosy Guide who _wasn’t_ supposed to but does know. Besides, it’s not healthy to completely suppress things like that. Now drop it, we‘re in a public place.”

                Blair rolled his eyes again, turning away from the detective. He moved around the desk and stopped just on the other side to face Jim. “I’ll be back. _Don‘t_ go out anywhere without me, especially on any calls. I want to come back and find you sitting right where I left you.”

                It was Jim‘s turn to roll his eyes, a big enough action that Blair caught it though he wasn’t fully facing the detective. “Scared I’ll take off on you?” Jim asked.

                “Scared I’ll turn you in?” Blair responded. They were in the middle of a Mexican stand-off.

                Jim turned to look at him again, standing up and leaning on the desk with both palms. Then, dropping his voice so low that Blair had to lean forward to hear him, Jim said, “The GSC doesn’t like it when Sentinels hide from them. I can’t imagine them being anymore thrilled at the idea of someone aiding and abetting.” Jim dropped back into his chair again and turned to his computer.

                Blair stared at Jim for a moment before leaving for the elevator, still turning Jim’s words over in his mind. He hadn’t thought of that and the sudden realization frightened him. What he was doing right now could get him into serious trouble with the GSC. He wasn’t just not reporting a Sentinel, he was helping one better survive without a Guide, aiding and abetting indeed. Except it wasn’t aiding and abetting, Blair told himself. You aided and abetted criminals doing criminal things, illegal things that were against the law. There wasn’t a law that said a Sentinel had to report himself to the GSC if his senses came online.

                Even as Blair reassured himself of that fact, he could still feel his stomach sinking along with the long elevator ride to ground level. Just because it wasn’t considered illegal yet didn’t mean he’d win any points for doing it. If the GSC found out what he and Jim were doing, they would both be in trouble. They could take Blair’s license to be Guide away, ban him from working with Sentinels ever again. That would be terrible. Working with Sentinels was all he‘d ever wanted to do ever since he was a kid.

                If Blair told them now, he could probably get away with it. They would ask him why it had taken him so long before reporting it, but he could make up an excuse. Still, that wouldn’t help Jim any. They would send Jim to a community, take him out of his apartment, suspend him from his job, and give him an official Guide.

                Blair would never seem him again.

                So Blair was right back to the original reason why he didn’t make the phone call in the first place. He liked Jim. If he couldn’t be Jim’s Guide, then maybe they could be friends. Plus, this offered a unique glimpse into this secret society of underground Sentinels and Blair just couldn’t pass that up.

                The doors closed again and Blair realized he’d been standing in the elevator for several minutes after it had reached the ground floor. He shook himself and headed out, glancing around him at the many strangers milling about the entrance lobby. He hurried to the bus stop and waited, foot tapping and double checking the bus schedule posted just outside the station.

A few minutes ago, Blair was eager to get away from the detective and his difficult attitude, but now Blair just wanted to finish his errand and get back where he could keep an eye on the Sentinel. The fear that Jim could have a reaction he couldn’t handle mixed with the new fear that Jim would do something to give himself away. Blair glanced at the strangers passing by him on street and then standing on the bus as it pulled up and he boarded. It seemed like more people were looking at him than normal. He couldn’t help but wonder if any of them worked for the GSC. He certainly didn’t recognize any of them. It was irrational, but the worry still nagged at him. Blair closed his eyes a moment and calmed himself.

                Something from the back of the bus drew Blair’s attention to the back of the bus. It felt like what he picked up from Jim when they first met, muffled and distorted, but recognizable. The bus pulled away from the curb at that precise moment and no one noticed Blair scanning the back seats, no one except the person who had set him off.

                Blair tried to keep his gaze inconspicuous as he glanced around the back of the bus and found the person staring at him with a mix of fear and suspicion. If Blair hadn’t been so highly skilled at recognizing Sentinels, and if he hadn’t known what to feel for he never would have noticed the woman Sentinel half buried in groceries in the back corner. She watched him watching her, the fear obvious in her creased brow tight grip on the grocery bags. She was like Jim, a Sentinel hiding in plain sight. Blair turned his gaze away. He could still feel her fear seeping out from behind him and he didn’t want to frighten the poor woman anymore than necessary.

                The woman got up and left the bus at the next stop, dragging her groceries with an urgency that left a bag of cucumbers sitting on her abandoned seat. Blair watched her go, the seriousness of her and Jim’s fear hitting him with renewed vigor and taking a place in Blair’s own heart. He glanced around the bus again, hesitant at feeling out the new comers, not wanting to find anyone he wasn’t supposed to know about. Was this how Jim felt? He wondered to himself, hunted, wary of the strangers around him? Was this how all fugitives felt? Blair had never been a fugitive himself, but now he could well guess what it might be like.

                By the time the bus reached his stop, Blair was a bundle of nerves. He couldn’t guess how Jim had made it so long without giving anything away. He knew he was being overly paranoid, but he couldn’t help continually scanning over the other passengers, checking and double checking those closest to him. When he made it to his cupboard of an office he collapsed against the closed door and breathed a sigh of relief.

                “You’re over reacting,” Blair muttered to himself, shaking his head and huffing a laugh at his own paranoia. Maybe the woman’s fear had bled over to him in that moment that he had sensed her on the bus.

                After taking one more deep breath, Blair pushed himself away from the door and began searching through his library of original documents crammed on the narrow shelf space spanning the wall. The first thing he pulled down was Burton’s monograph, the first piece of literature he’d ever read about Sentinels when he was young. He’d been over it so many times he probably had it memorized, but he was determined to go over it once more with fresh eyes. Burton was an anthropologist, surely the explorer had written something of the original relationship between Sentinels and their Guides. Blair just needed to approach it with a fresh perspective and not impose his own preconceived notions onto the text.

                It took Blair almost half an hour to find all the texts he could think of off the top of his head. He’d come back again and pick up more when he’d finished with these. Emptying out a box filled with papers to be recycled, Blair dumped the books, papers, and manuscripts into the box, hefting it up under his arm and shutting off the lights. He fumbled for his keys to lock the door again out in the hall when a voice from behind made him jump in surprise.

                “Blair!” the smooth voice called out.

                Blair turned to face the receding hairline and dark, bushy eyebrows, “Dr. Hedrick,” Blair managed after the barest pause. “What are you doing here?”

                “I was just passing by and saw you coming out of your office, thought I’d stop and ask how your project was going,” Dr. Hedrick replied with an easy smile.

                “Oh,” Blair turned back to the door, and finished locking it to buy himself a little time. The paranoia that seemed so ridiculous in his quiet, empty office now seemed perfectly valid with this man standing behind him. “It’s fine, everything’s going well, or as well as can be expected.”

                Hedrick nodded in understanding. “Was the information I gave you useful at all?”

                Blair shifted the box to both hands to keep from fidgeting too much with the line of questioning. “Well, it was really only a matter of curiosity. Just background research, like I said.”

“Actually,” Hedrick continued when Blair failed to follow up right away with his goodbyes, “It was interesting that you brought it up. Just a couple of days ago, they found a man who was a full Sentinel for years, covering it up. Would have continued, too, if he hadn’t had a reaction to some pesticides in the park.”

                “Oh, really?” Blair asked, trying to calm his suddenly pounding heart, “I hadn’t heard about that.”

                “I’m not surprised,” Hedrick nodded, casually putting his hands in his pockets, “You’ve been caught up with your project at the police department. They haven’t published anything about it yet, so word really hasn‘t left the GSC or University research departments. It’s caused quite a stir, though. He’s been taken in for psychological evaluations last I heard.”

                “A psych eval?” Blair asked, not liking the sound of that at all. A part of him wondered if word really hadn’t left the GSC and University yet. It would certainly explain the extreme fear the woman felt toward him on the bus. “Isn’t that a little extreme?”

                Hedrick shrugged with a brief chuckle, “To determine why he hid, naturally. Imagine, a Sentinel purposefully hiding from a Guide. It’s not in their nature.”

                “Maybe he just wanted to be left alone,” Blair muttered, mostly to himself. A picture of Jim, so careful in everything he did to avoid getting caught, sprung to his mind. Jim wouldn’t do well in the psych ward of a Sentinel wing at a hospital. A part of Blair cringed just thinking of it.

                “What was that?” Hedrick asked, leaning in to better hear.

                “Nothing,” Blair said. He shifted the box in his arms again, this time more because the weight than any nervous fidgeting. It did help to move a bit. He started back down the hall, wanting to get back to Jim and, more importantly, away from Hedrick as soon as possible.

                Hedrick didn’t seem to notice or think much of Blair’s quick steps down the hallway. He fell in beside Blair with ease, hands still in the pockets of his tan corduroys. “Anyway, it reminded me of your question and I thought that maybe you’d found someone similar at the police station. There’s speculation going around there may be more of them out there, Sentinels pretending they don’t have the senses.”

                “Dr. Hedrick,” Blair said, a part of him desperate to stop that line of thinking before it led the GSC to him and Jim, “Don’t be ridiculous, no Sentinel in their right mind would hide from a Guide considering all the dangerous stimulus in the world.”

                “True,” Hedrick agreed, nodding his head, “But nevertheless, we now have a Sentinel who did exactly that.”

                “There’s bound to be a few crazies in every generation. That doesn’t mean there’s more out there. Isn’t that the entire point of the psych eval?” Blair countered, sweating bullets under his shirt.

                Hedrick shrugged, “We’ll see, I hear the GSC’s going to set up a board to research the possibility. Perhaps, that’s where the Sentinels have been disappearing all these years.”

                “I doubt it,” Blair said, putting as much doubt and disbelief into his words as possible.

                They reached the double doors leading out to the parking lot. A few doors back down the hallway opened, letting loose a flood of students into the corridor. Blair glanced back at them, realizing it was the top of the hour if classes were letting out already. Factoring in the time it would take the bus to get back to the department, he was going to get back much later than he originally planned.

                Dr. Hedrick paused at the door, looking hard at Blair once more before turning back to the building and his own office. “We’ll see,” he said as he turned. A moment later he was swallowed in the tide of students flowing through the hall.

                Blair watched the doctor’s back disappear in the crowd, the sinking feeling from before returning with renewed vigor. He shouldered the door open and hurried down to the bus stop.

 

TBC…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own the Sentinel.

  **Chapter 10**  

             Jim glanced up as the elevator doors closed behind Blair, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. He didn’t like the idea of Blair going off on his own. The man might get it into his head that Jim really did need professional help from the GSC. Still, he thought his vague threat would work to keep Sandburg in line at least until he came back to the station. It was true after all. The people at the GSC would be just as angry with Sandburg for helping Jim as they would be at Jim for hiding.

              It helped that Sandburg didn’t report Jim right away. Waiting to talk to Jim showed at least some element of consideration. Then, this morning he still kept his word and hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even let on with Jim using his senses in the office. It was better to be safe than sorry, though, and Jim wasn’t going to fully trust Sandburg until he was sure.

              Despite the added stress of Sandburg knowing his secret, Jim found himself almost more relaxed. Holding back his senses around Sandburg was draining and stressful. It wasn’t natural for a Sentinel to completely suppress his senses, something he’d learned early on after coming online. It was better to use them minimally when they wouldn’t be noticed and avoid the tension and pain from clamping down on them. He’d been too afraid to do that before, with a Guide sitting right next to him watching his every move, but now he didn’t have to worry about that.

               Then, even better was the realization that hit Jim in the ride to the station that morning. Sandburg, though a Guide, was also a scientist and as a scientist he was curious. Sandburg wanted to know how Jim survived and if he turned Jim in he’d never find out the answer. Sandburg might be able to turn Jim over to the GSC, which meant Jim had to do what he said, but Jim was the only one who could answer Sandburg’s unending questions, giving Jim an equal hold over Sandburg, a Mexican stand-off if there ever was one. The thought made Jim want to laugh at the irony of it.

                Aggravating the Hell out of Sandburg was a nice bonus, as well.

                That didn’t mean that he was starting to like having the Guide around, though. Oh, no, the sooner he could shake Sandburg and the two of them could go their own separate ways the better. It just meant that Sandburg knowing wasn’t quite the disaster he thought it would be. Maybe he could even get some better ideas on how to avoiddetection now that he had some insider knowledge.

                Those thoughts had Jim in an uncharacteristically better mood than normal that held straight through lunch despite Sandburg being late. It fell off again when the man came back looking jumpy and nervous. No one had noticed Jim’s good mood, or rather, lack of a bad one. No one came near enough to notice. Plenty of people noticed Sandburg’s nerves, however. Sandburg was distracted and jumpy. He kept glancing toward the door and startled a few times when someone came up behind him. Jim could see the others out of the corner of his eye glancing at the two of them. He could practically hear them wondering what big, bad, Jim Ellison had done to the poor, helpless Guide liaison.

                It wasn’t important what they thought of him. What mattered was Sandburg was now attracting attention, something he had promised _not_ to do. The man had the worst poker face in the history of bluffs and liars. That or something had happened during lunch, but what could possibly have happened in such a short amount of time?

                The thought worried at the back of Jim’s mind throughout the afternoon, nearly snapping the third time the Guide spilled his paperwork all over the floor. Jim took a deep, quiet breath and held himself back, at least until they were behind closed doors and out of the public eye where he could give a brief but thorough lecture on clandestine ops 101. He had a good thing going here. It had taken him years to set himself up where he felt this amount of security. It would be just his luck if Sandburg managed to give away the entire game within the first 72 hours of finding out his secret, intentionally or not.         

* * *

 

                The day crawled by for Blair after he returned to the police department. He couldn’t shake his conversation with Dr. Hendrick and the more he thought about it, the more worried he became. He glanced at the door repeatedly, expecting the man to walk through at any moment. It was unreasonable, he knew, but he would have thought finding a full-blown Sentinel living on his own would be unreasonable. More than that, the idea that there would be an entire demographic of Sentinels in hiding had been extremely unreasonable, and yet, there was Jim, the woman on the bus, and the man caught in the park. So Blair didn’t feel too bad about harboring unreasonable suspicions, however paranoid they might turn out to be.

                Still, it didn’t mean he shouldn’t turn it down a notch, Blair thought to himself as he jumped at the sound of a door slamming down the hall. He was getting strange looks and Jim’s mood had deteriorated severely since lunch, mainly because of Blair’s jumpiness. Blair didn’t know what else to do, though. This entire situation was way beyond his realm of experience, as he was coming to realize with each passing hour.

                Glancing up at the clock for the umpteenth time that day, Blair sighed in relief as he realized it was very nearly time to go home. He started packing away his papers, taking care to go slowly to cover his early start. He could feel Jim’s eyes slide over to him and heard a muttered, “good idea,” before Jim followed suit.

                They left the office at the top of the hour, on the dot, and were probably the first ones out of the parking garage by the time they pulled out into traffic. It was something of a relief getting out of the crowded office and away from the public eye and Blair wondered if that was how Jim felt every time he left the office to go back to his solitary apartment. Still, being alone with Jim brought a sense of guilt to the fore thanks to what happened at lunch time. Blair knew he should tell Jim, if at the very least to put the Sentinel on his guard, but he was not looking forward to it.

                Blair shot Jim a sidelong glance, trying to scrape up the courage to open his mouth. The man was stiff as ever with the familiar scowl on his face. _He certainly doesn’t look open to bad news_ , Blair thought, _maybe I should just leave it alone. What he doesn’t know won’t kill him…or could it_? He grimaced to himself as he remembered about the man caught in the park. Jim had made it this far, but no one had been looking for him. What if they actively started looking for Sentinels hiding their abilities? _Who am I kidding? If he finds out and then discovers I knew about it he’ll think I was covering it up….I need to tell him._

                Blair took a deep breath and opened his mouth but couldn’t think of how to approach the subject so he closed it again. He turned back to the window, trying to think of an excuse to keep his mouth shut. His conscience came right back with a strong “ _Tell him_.”

                _Jim’ll hate me. He’ll clam up, won’t let me help, maybe even kick me out. I’m still trying to get a little trust from him…_

_You’ll lose whatever trust you’ve gained if you hide this. Tell him._

                Blair watched the cars move around them and the scenery flash past. They were getting close to the apartment, maybe he could wait until they got up to Jim’s place.

                _The longer you wait the harder it’ll be, just TELL HIM!_

                Blair closed his eyes, knowing it was true. Preparing himself with a deep breath and another covert glance to Jim’s unwelcoming profile, he opened his mouth. “Hey, Jim…”

                “What?” came the sharp response, not very encouraging.

                Blair winced but plowed on anyway. “I uh...ran into Dr. Hedrick today…”

                There was an audible pause before Jim replied in a half confused, half aggravated, “So?”

                Blair realized that the man probably didn’t know who Dr. Hedrick was. “Dr. Hedrick works at the university…um, Sentinel medicine, specifically.” The temperature took a noticeable dive in the truck cabin but Blair plowed on anyway, determined to get through this, “He mentioned something about finding a Sentinel that had been hiding, you know, like you-”

                “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!” Jim stopped him, a heavy note of anxiety in his voice, “Wait a minute! How about starting over at the beginning. Who is this guy?”

                Blair took a deep breath, “Like I said, Dr. Hedrick is a colleague of mine at the college. He specializes in Sentinel medicine and does a lot of work with the Sentinel and Guide Center…” He hesitated, not wanting to tell Jim about his earlier discussion with the doctor that may have tipped Hedrick off to Jim’s possible existence but not seeing any other choice, as well. “I…uh, I asked him a few questions about Sentinels living without Guides…”

                Jim slammed on the brakes, bringing the truck to a dead, squealing stop in the middle of the road. Behind them, cars swerved and blared their horns. Blair cringed as the afternoon traffic stuttered into disarray, curses flew toward them as drivers recovered and skirted around.

                “What!” Jim yelled as the truck rocked violently back from the sudden stop. “You _told_ him about me?” Jim thundered, his face a mixture of shock and anger.

                “Well, not about _you_ you!” Blair tried to explain, speaking fast, “I asked him a theoretical question about Sentinels surviving without a Guide. It was mostly about a case study at the turn of the century. I didn’t even _know_ about you then! I mean, I had my suspicions, but I didn’t _say_ anything.”

                “No, you wouldn’t have to since giving them the suspicion, just the idea, is good enough!” Jim countered.

                Blair didn‘t have a response to that, knowing it now. “Uh, Jim, can‘t we find a better place to talk?” Blair asked instead, noticing a growing line of cars behind them and a renewed volley of horns.

                Jim glanced in the rearview mirror, seemingly noticing their position in the road for the first time. With a growl and a quick, murderous glare at Blair he took off, screeching his tires. The remaining drive to the apartment took half the normal time. Thankfully they had already been close. The truck jerked to a halt and Jim was already out of the cab and to the door before Blair could even undo his seatbelt. Blair took a moment to gather the box of reading he brought with him from the university. By the time he made it up to the apartment, Jim had the white noise generators out and placed around the living room. The door being cracked open saved Blair the embarrassment of having to knock for entry. For a moment on the stairs, he thought Jim would lock him out of the apartment rather than wanting to discuss the situation, but no, apparently Jim wanted to discuss the situation at length, if the number of generators and Jim’s stormy expression were any indication.

                Part of Blair wished he’d been locked out in the hallway.

                The door closed behind Blair with a thud, the click of the latch sounding entirely too soft for the finality of the sound. The hum of the generators quickly fell to the background and an uneasy silence descended over the room as Jim paced, arms crossed over his chest and shoulders stiff. Blair set down his box and back pack by the couch and waited. The curtains were drawn and a few lamps lit, making the day seem later than it actually was.

                “So let me get this straight,” Jim started, his words slow, methodical and measured, “Before you realized exactly what I was, but when you had your suspicions, you went and discussed the possibility of a Sentinel living on their own with this Dr. Hedrick. And then, today, you ran into the same doctor while at the university and he mentioned the topic again by bringing up another Sentinel they found who was trying to hide from Guides. Am I getting this straight?”

                “Yes,” Blair said, keeping his voice as level and factual as possible. He could feel the tension pouring off of Jim like a blocked up steam engine. Hopefully, if they kept the conversation on the facts and focused on the problem they could avoid any explosions. “He said that they had found a Sentinel who had apparently been hiding from the GSC and avoiding Guides in general for several years. He had a bad reaction to some pesticides in the park. That’s how they found him. They’re keeping the information quiet for now, but they’re beginning to entertain the idea that other Sentinels might be out there in hiding.”

                “Perfect,” Jim growled under his breath. He rubbed a hand hard over his face. “When you first went to talk to him, did he sound suspicious, like he thought you might have found something?”

                Blair glanced down at the floor for a moment, “Uh, maybe. He seemed to think I had found something at the department, but I told him it was merely curiosity, just an idea that had come to me during my research.”

                “And how did he seem this time around? Still suspicious?” Jim asked, voice growing louder.

                “Yes,” Blair said after a hesitating pause, “He only said it was odd about the timing of my question earlier, but I got the sense that he was suspicious about something.”

                “What is he like? Would he tell anyone?”

                Blair grimaced, Jim wouldn‘t want any sugar coating. “In a heartbeat,” he said, “Dr. Hedrick is of the mind that Sentinels can’t survive without a Guide. That they need to be protected from themselves and the dangers in the world.”

                Jim huffed out a heavy breath, turning from Blair and pacing a few more times. “You can really pick ‘em Sandburg, you know that?” he snapped, his voice picking up in speed and volume. “Haven’t you ever heard the term ‘discretion’ before?”

                Blair couldn‘t help trying to defend himself, “Well, at the time I didn’t think-”

                “No, you didn’t think!” Jim interrupted, his voice rising above Blair’s, “and I guess that’s why you were so nervous today after lunch. After being noticed by one person at the university, you decide to come back to the station and draw even more attention to yourself. You wouldn’t last five minutes in covert ops,” Jim finished off to himself. Jim’s steps were starting to come as fast as his words and he paced across the floor.

                “I can’t very well make Hedrick forget about the whole thing,” Blair said. He was out of his depth.

                “No, but you can distract him, point his interest in another direction!” Jim nearly shouted, throwing his hands in the air. He took in a shaky breath, visibly calming himself. It didn’t do anything to dispel the tension filling the room or the negative emotions clawing at Blair. “He has no reason to suspect anything. Even if he did have his suspicions from your conversations he can’t prove anything. All he’s got right now is assumptions and guess work, but that could quickly change if he decides to dig deeper because of your suspicious behavior!”

                “I told him it was just background research!” Blair shot back, “I did everything I could think of to dissuade him when I realized. Besides, I had no control over that other Sentinel getting caught. He probably would have forgotten the entire thing if it weren’t for that.”

                Jim glared at him for a moment before turning away and growling, “Maybe.” He spun around again a moment later, an accusing finger pointed at Blair. “But you’re going to have to grow a pair and get some brains if we’re going to keep associating with one another. If something like that happens again don’t go around the rest of the day jumping at shadows. Those men I work with are detectives. They didn’t get there through their good looks and it’s their job to put one and two together!”

                “Is that why you’ve kept everyone in the department away for so long?” Blair blurted, unable to contain the question, “Then, why did you stay there if it’s so dangerous?”

                “This is not the time for your ridiculous questions, Sandburg!” Jim burst, turning to pace again. “This is a serious situation. I have no problems with anyone being suspicious and all it takes is a few weeks of your merry company and I find myself under more scrutiny than I’ve been under since before joining the police department! As far as I’m concerned you can forget about my being a willing participant in whatever lab experiments you have planned for the near future.”

                “We had a deal,” Blair said, moving to follow Jim’s path across the room. “I don’t tell anyone, you throw me a bone. I still haven’t told anyone. Like you said he only has suspicions. We don’t know if they’ll even come to anything! So the deal still stands. I could still tell,” Blair threatened, but his heart wasn’t in it. He hoped that his rush to preserve what was left of their pact would cover that up in his voice.

                “You’re assuming I would still be in the area to turn in,” Jim countered, turning to face Blair, arms crossed over his chest. He advanced on Blair, making him backup until he was pressed against the door. “You’re lucky I’m even letting you continue to stay here.” He growled under his breath and spun back around, stalking toward the stairs.

                Blair stared at him in disbelief, “You wouldn’t really just leave, would you? Run away?”

                “There’s a difference between running away and a tactical retreat!” Jim threw over his shoulder as he quickly climbed the stairs.

                “We’re not at war, Jim!” Blair shot back, unable to think of anything else to say.

                “Speak for yourself!” Jim shot back before disappearing inside his room.

                The declaration was a punch to the gut. Imagine Sentinels at war with their own Guides. The thought made Blair shiver. He almost followed Jim, but held himself back. They both needed to calm down. He didn’t want to push Jim too far and risk the man leaving altogether.  The situation couldn’t be as bad as it seemed, but it would be impossible to make Jim see that now.

                “Time,” Blair muttered to himself, “Give him time.” But time was the one thing they might not have.

 

TBC…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still don't own it.

**Chapter 11**

                The next day passed by in a whirl of tension for Jim, yet agonizingly slow at the same time. If Sandburg had been jumpy the day before, Jim was equally nervous on the following. Sitting at his desk he felt like he was waiting for his proverbial execution, probably similar to how Sandburg felt the previous afternoon, he briefly thought. The difference was, Jim knew how to hide it. Years of military training and bearing, then working as a cop, not to mention the past couple weeks of working with Sandburg, had given him the discipline to mask his feelings, and cover up his uncertainties. To anyone else watching him he looked no different than on any other day.

                Jim’s gaze slid over to his unwanted partner sitting at the end of his desk. Sandburg, however, still looked on edge. He wasn’t anywhere near as bad as he was the day before, right after that disastrous lunch break, but he was still visibly tense and acting out of character. His heart beat noticeably faster than normal as it thudded in the background of Jim’s hearing.

                Jim suppressed a sigh as he turned back to the report he was writing. Part of him felt bad for the kid. Sandburg wasn’t use to this type of existence, being constantly in hiding and under the stress of discovery. Still, the academic had tried his best since making their deal and Jim couldn’t deny that Sandburg had kept up his end of the bargain by not going directly to the authorities. He’d meant to give Sandburg some pointers on how to blend in and not draw attention to himself last night, but the news of Dr. Hedrick set off his already short temper and that was the end of anything productive for the night. He spent the rest of his time in his room trying to get everything back under control.

                Jim flinched as someone dropped something heavy on the floor. Well, mostly under control he amended to himself. Behind him, Sandburg shifted, leaning in toward Jim but holding back from closing the distance. Jim ignored the Guide and focus on the unfinished report in front of him. Stress always made it difficult to control his senses and now he was going to the extra effort of suppressing them again for good measure. Well, trying to suppress them, Jim thought with a roll of his eyes, something which was proving to be next to impossible at the moment. The only success he had at the moment was the onset of one very large headache.

                Stretching the tense muscles in his neck, Jim resisted the urge to roll his shoulders. He needed a lunch break, they both did, a very long lunch break in a quiet, secluded place. Unfortunately, it was still at least an hour till lunch and he had paperwork. Between avoiding Sandburg outside of the office and the intense paranoia that distracted him at work, the past few weeks had felt like some of the least productive Jim had ever had. The resulting pile of back work crowded out the little elbow room on his desk, something very unusual for him. If he didn’t get it cleared up soon, someone could notice and then any lectures he gave to Sandburg about keeping his head down and not attracting attention would be null and void. The last thing he needed right now was a sarcastic Guide with the opportunity to throw words back in Jim’s face.

                Glancing back to Sandburg, Jim watched Sandburg shift in his seat again as he jotted down a few notes and returned to observing the interactions of the department. To Jim it looked more like gazing off into space. Perhaps, he could kill two birds with one stone. Jim grabbed one of the finished case reports waiting for filing and dropped it down in front of the Guide without ceremony. Sandburg startled at the sudden noise.

                “Review that,” Jim said, and turned back to the computer screen to work on another.

                Sandburg stared for a moment in confusion at the file before looking back to Jim. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to be involved with real police work,” he said, a sarcastic bite to his words, “After all, I‘m just an observer.”

                “You’re not doing any policing,” Jim said, “you’re reviewing for grammatical errors and general composition, a glorified spell check. Besides, I thought that to observe you wanted to see all aspects of the police world. Now, check all.”

                Sandburg grumbled a few choice words under his breath that Jim deliberately tuned out before opening the file and starting to read. Jim smiled to himself as Sandburg, despite his protests, slowly became immersed in reading the case file. Jim could hear the other man relax and nervous heartrate slow as he delved into the case and its outcome. The absence of nervous energy behind him let Jim focus a little more.

                The following hour passed by much more swiftly and before Jim knew it a wrist watch beeped somewhere down the hall prompting him to look at the clock. It was half past eleven. Half of the desks in the room were empty confirming the approaching lunch hour. Locking out his computer and dropping his files into a security drawer, Jim cleared his desk from the morning’s work. He rummaged around for the extra large bottle of aspirin he kept in his desk. Jim swallowed down a few tablets before turning to Sandburg.

                “C’mon,” Jim said, giving Sandburg a light smack on his shoulder to get his attention, “We’re going.”

                Sandburg turned and blinked at him in the same uncomprehending way as he looked at the case file. “Going?” he repeated, “With you?…To lunch?” he added.

                Jim rolled his eyes. “Yes, pack up your things and don’t make a scene,” he said, taking the file back and depositing it with the rest in the security drawer. He locked the drawer and stuffed the keys into his pocket.

                Standing, Jim grabbed his truck keys and headed for the elevators. The floor was nearly deserted now as most left for a much needed break. A few stayed behind, tapping away at keyboards and scribbling into files, but none of them gave notice as Sandburg eagerly hurried after Jim to the elevators.

                “Where are we going?” Sandburg asked as soon as the doors closed, puppy like enthusiasm overshadowing any lingering confusion.

                Jim closed his eyes a moment and took a deep breath. He had a feeling he was going to regret this. Spending more time than necessary with Sandburg would only encourage unnecessary attachment on either or both of their parts when the time came for them to part ways, but it was the best solution he had to their current problem. Sandburg needed to learn how to control himself more if they were going to get by under the radar and the sooner the better. That meant lessons in how to keep a secret 101.

                “We’re going someplace quiet,” Jim said, “We both need a break and I want to talk to you about a few things.”

                “What sort of things?” Sandburg’s curiosity was almost bursting out of his skin.

                Jim didn’t answer, he just stared at the numbers ticking down to the parking garage, already regretting his decision.

                “It must be your senses, right?” Sandburg continued, ignoring Jim’s continued silence. The man was an empath, he had to know how Jim felt right now, right? He was annoying Jim on purpose. “Have they been giving you trouble? You know stress can severely affect controlling and managing senses.”

                For a moment, Jim could only stare at him in surprise at the honest concern in the Guide’s tone. “I can handle those,” Jim said, looking back to the dropping numbers, “I’ve been doing it for some time now. I‘ll explain on the way.”

                The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, letting in the cooler air of the parking garage. Jim stepped out and headed straight for his truck. Sandburg was right at his heels, barely restrained questions at the tip of his tongue. There were a few others in the garage, standing around talking before heading out for lunch. No one seemed to notice them leaving together and Jim made sure to keep his expression on the just-aggravated side of blank. It was easy with Sandburg bouncing along next to him. If anyone did take note that he was leaving with his Guide partner perhaps they would think he was doing it unwillingly and for police business. He had barely climbed into the truck cab and shut the door when the questions started anew.

                “So we’re going someplace quiet? Is this the same place you go to whenever you disappear for lunch? Do you go there to help you balance your senses?” Blair asked, putting things together before Jim could comment either way.

                “Yes,” Jim sighed, sounding world weary already though their field trip had only just begun. “It’s one of the places I go, but I don’t expect to have to tell you that you are not to repeat any of this to anyone, right? No matter how much back up research, theorizing, or venting you may want to do. Am I correct?” Jim’s voice took on harder tone.

                Sandburg waved the thought away. “Oh no, don’t worry, Jim, I won’t tell anyone about this. I thought we already made that clear.”

                “Just wanted to be sure,” Jim threw out a skeptical glance as he started the truck and backed out of the space. He paused as he pulled out into traffic and maneuvered through the lanes. “We’re going someplace quiet so I can give you some advice about staying below the radar and drawing less attention.”

                “Oh,” Blair said, disappointment creeping into his voice, “so this isn’t about your senses. Are you sure this isn‘t about your senses? I thought I saw you wincing a few times this morning, so don‘t bother denying that they‘re giving you some trouble.”

                “Well, I needed to get out of there, too,” Jim admitted, “way too loud, but the main thing is to minimize any collateral damage from this Hedrick incident. _You_ need to learn to control yourself.”

                Sandburg snorted. “Oh that’s rich,” he said, recovering from his disappointment, “The Sentinel telling the Guide he needs to learn self control.”

                “If the shoe fits,” Jim replied, “From what I’ve seen so far, you’ve got next to no capacity for keeping secrets.”

                “I can keep secrets!” Sandburg said, voice rising in insult, “You have to keep confidentiality of any individuals you work with in anthropology, unless they agree to let their identities be revealed. Then, there’s always keeping research and projects quiet. You wouldn’t believe how many academics out there will steal your work if given them the chance.”

                Jim cut in with a wave of his hand before a full-blown rant on integrity and ethics in academia could begin. “I’m not talking about keeping information out of the public eye or quiet between friends. I’m talking about keeping it _secret_ , to the point where no one else even realizes it’s out there, or if they do, they think you don’t know it and aren’t involved.” Jim pulled off the main roads and started heading into a rundown residential area. The truck jostled over several potholes.

                “This is starting to feel like super spy stuff,” Sandburg said, a hint of relish and trepidation battling in his voice.

                “Oh please,” Jim rolled his eyes, already feeling better from just getting away from the crowded department. “My life is not a film noir nor spy movie. Going overboard with this will attract just as much attention as spouting your mouth off to every professor in the area.” Jim pulled the truck to a stop and threw it into park before shutting it down.

                “It was one guy, and I didn’t even give him any details!” Sandburg countered, before finally taking note where they were, “Uh, Jim? You sure this is the right place? I thought cops didn’t really show their faces in this part of town.”

                “That’s after dark, Sandburg, and the other end of the street.” Jim unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the truck. He paused before closing the door to look back at Sandburg.

                The Guide hadn’t moved to get out of the cab yet, staring instead at the abandoned park with clear misgivings on his face. Jim really couldn’t blame him. The park looked far from welcoming, overgrown with vines and tall grass, it was a testament to the forgotten neighborhood where it sat. He rarely saw people there, and when he did it was usually some bedraggled kid cutting through to get to the other side. Even the drug dealers seemed to have forgotten its existence, or perhaps the wholly natural appearance of the small area put them off as they preferred to conduct their business in the more urban areas of abandonment. Though, every once in a while, Jim caught the hint of other Sentinels were using the same park to calm their senses.

                Either way, Jim found this park to be one of the most secluded and peaceful nearby and probably his favorite. The vegetation had all over grown, leaving broad, if stunted trees, thick vines, wide bushes, and tall grass. An old swing set and slide sat in the center of the park, rusted and mostly broken from years of abandonment. The quiet neighborhood and thick over growth conspired to insulate the small area from what little traffic and noise did wind its way through from the center of Cascade. For Jim, the small, rundown compound was like an oasis and he always felt better after taking a lunch break here to even out his senses, though he couldn’t come too often for fear of someone noticing.

                Jim glanced back at Sandburg who still hadn’t gotten out of the truck. “You’re wasting our lunch break,” he said before locking and closing his door with a dull thump.

                Sandburg shrugged and followed suit, getting out of the truck and locking his door. Jim led the way through an old gate, propped open and fixed in place by vines, rust, and dirt. As they passed through, Jim pointed out one glossy, dark green vine saying, “Don’t touch that. It’s poison ivy.”

                “I know what poison ivy looks like,” Sandburg grumbled from behind him, though he moved to avoid brushing against the reaching vine. “I do go out in the woods, you know.”

                “Really,” Jim said for once with surprise and absolutely no sarcasm, “I thought you academics liked to bury yourselves under books and papers in some dusty library or office.”

                “That’s theorists,” Sandburg corrected, “If you want to excel at anthropology, you usually have to do extensive field work, go out, live with the natives, get to know their environments. Plus, I do a lot of camping.”

                “Huh,” Jim said, mostly to himself, not bothering to hide his surprise. He stopped and turned to face Sandburg when he reached an ancient metal picnic table. He wouldn’t have pictured Sandburg as the outdoorsy type, but he put the information aside, returning to their former topic. “It doesn’t matter if you only told one guy, it doesn’t even matter that you didn’t give him any details. It’s the fact that you told someone who you’re not absolutely sure of and _without_ consulting me.”

                Sandburg tried to break in with a protest, but Jim cut him off with a raised hand.

                “I know the first time you talked to him was before you started blackmailing me.”

                “Before we came to an understanding,” Sandburg corrected with an eye roll.

                “Whatever you want to call it,” Jim continued with emphasis, “You should have told me right away about talking to this doctor if for no other reason than to give me a heads up of who might know or suspect.”

                “I told you,” Sandburg said, “I didn’t give him any specifics. I told him it was just background research for a theory.”

                Jim shook his head, Sandburg still wasn’t getting it. “I don’t care that you didn’t give him any details. People don’t need every bit of information to start filling in the holes and making conclusions on their own. Sometimes being deliberately vague can even cause more suspicion, not less. It makes you look like you’ve got something to hide.”

                Jim knew he was lecturing but couldn’t help it. His frustration bubbled to the surface again and threatened to turn to anger. He took a few deep breaths before continuing. “You have to get your emotions under control. Get your head screwed on straight. I don’t care if the world is falling apart around your ears, you still put on the act that everything is fine. Then, the next time this Dr. Hedrick shows up for a chat find a way to put him off the trail. Have a nice long talk with him, work with his position about Sentinels not being able to survive on their own. He’s already got the belief in place. It’s easier to convince people of something they already believe anyway so it shouldn’t be too hard. Then, while you’re at it, make sure you have a good excuse for why you’re not living wherever you lived before you invaded my house. Say they’re fumigating, a sick friend, something as to why you would leave for several weeks. Make up a friend that no one else knows and say you’re crashing with them. Don’t say a hotel. That’s too easy to check up on.”

                “You’re sounding paranoid.” Sandburg grumbled as he dropped down on a stained and pot-marked stone bench.

                “You’re not paranoid if they’re really after you,” Jim countered, the bulk of his temper and frustration running out of steam, “and I think that point was proven by the poor bastard who got caught a few days ago. This may not mean that much to you, but I have my freedom on the line and I’m not going to be exposed because some nosy academic didn’t know how to play James Bond for a few weeks. Besides, I‘d like to switch places with you and see how you feel about the whole thing.”

                “Fine, fine,” Sandburg threw up his hands, “I’ll just pretend I’m dodging the bill collectors again, like in my freshman and sophomore years of college.”

                “That would definitely be a step up from your performance now,” Jim agreed, nodding. He looked down at his watch and grimaced as he realized they only had half an hour left. “Ok, so go over to your side and work on calming your nerves down, I’m not going to bring you back to the office unless you can prove you’re going to act in a normal manner.”

                “Well, what are you going to be doing?” Sandburg asked, clearly annoyed at being treated like a child.

                Jim glared at him, “I’m going to go to my side and get my senses under control for the rest of the day. And no, you can’t help,” he cut Sandburg off before the other man could do more than open his mouth.

                Jim moved off without another word, determined to make his senses even out in the remaining half an hour before he became just as much of a liability as he was accusing Sandburg. The whole process took much less time than it normally did, though Jim refused to acknowledge the help he found in Sandburg’s steadying heart beat across the park. He shot a parting glare at the panther lounging on the picnic table. They had enough time to grab some takeout then it was back to the office where hopefully things would go better this time around.

* * *

                 A week went by and Blair had to admit it wasn’t as bad as he feared it would be. The next week went even better. In fact, he would say that it was going quite well. Jim had been suspicious of his capability to get himself under control and watched him like a hawk the first few days, but days passed and still there was no word from Dr. Hedrick or any of Jim‘s fellow detectives. Blair liked to think it was his superior acting skills to pretend nothing had happened, but he had a feeling Jim’s distracting him with case files helped a lot.

                Jim realized very quickly after that first file how handy it was having a second pair of eyes to look over his work. He dropped files into Blair’s lap faster than Blair could go through them. At first, it was just proofing for grammatical and spelling errors of finished reports before filing them away, but it quickly evolved as Blair found he couldn’t keep his nose out of the still active reports. He just couldn’t go back to sitting there watching people do paper work. In all honesty, observing police detectives wasn’t turning out to be quite as exciting as he thought it would be. Except for the one time he left the office and trying to figure Jim out, it was mainly paper work. Though, he probably should have seen that coming.

                Picking another file up after finishing the closed cases, Blair scanned through the report while Jim was preoccupied glancing under his desk. Jim had been doing that a lot in the past couple of days muttering under his breath about over-grown house cats. Blair didn’t know what the man was talking about, but decided to leave it for the moment. He didn’t want to antagonize the man too much now he was finally getting off of Jim’s bad side and looking through files he shouldn’t be was enough for one day.

                Blair glanced through the file, quickly getting his bearings in the increasingly familiar format. As he read through the case. Jim straighten and glance over at him.

                “That one’s not finished,” Jim said, moving to take the folder back as Blair pulled it out of the way.

                “I know. I’m just checking it over,” Blair said as Jim rolled his eyes and turned back to his desk. Encouraged by still having possession of the file, Blair continued on, “Did you check into the other motives on this than just the three hundred bucks stolen?”

                Jim stilled a moment before slowly turning in his chair to face Blair. “Why would you say that, Chief?” he asked a distinct cautionary note in his tone, leaning back with his arms crossed, a masked expression on his face.

                The pose didn’t seem very inviting to Blair, but he continued on anyway. “The house had several dead bolts on the door, bars on the lower story windows, and a pretty mean dog in the yard. Doesn’t that seem like a little much for your average home security?”

                “It’s one of the more dangerous areas of town,” Jim countered, “robberies in that neighborhood are common. Half the houses on the street have bars on their first story windows and numerous deadbolts on the doors.”

                Blair shrugged looking back down into the folder with a frown. “It just seems like an awful lot of trouble robbing this guy’s house for a lousy three hundred bucks. There could be other motives involved, revenge or maybe the guy had more than the money in his house.”

                Jim stared at him for several minutes before reaching behind and picking up another active case file. “What do you think of that one?” he asked as he dropped it in Blair’s lap.

                Blair stared at it a moment before looking back to Jim. “Isn’t this policing?” he asked, sarcasm appearing in his own voice.

                “No, this is ‘consulting,’” Jim said before turning back to his desk. “You’re not allowed to do policing. When you’re done with that one feel free to move to the others and make note of anything out of place you might notice.”

                “So you’re giving it a fancy name and letting me do it anyway?” Blair asked, slightly disgusted with the duplicity of it as he eyed the stack of open case folders on Jim‘s desk.

                “That’s the name of the game, Chief. Don’t complain, you finally got what you wanted, a real life look into the lives of police detectives.”

                “Not sure I want it anymore,” Blair mumbled as he cracked open another, thicker file.

                After that, Jim didn’t seem to mind Blair looking through the files. In fact, as soon as Blair finished one file he found another dropped in its place.

                “I’m not your personal secretary, you know,” Blair grumbled after returning from a break to find another stack of folders in his seat.

                “You know that phrase about being careful about what you wish for?” Jim answered, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Most of this is back work I didn’t get through because I was avoiding _you_ , so it’s partly your fault anyway.” There was no malice in it, though.

                “ _That’s_ great logic,” Blair breathed.

                “I heard that,” Jim shot over his shoulder as he opened his own case file.

                “Good.” Blair kept his head bent over the file but his mouth quirked up in a grin.

                Things were getting better. Jim was warming up. He still wouldn’t let Blair help with his senses but he stopped fighting Blair coming with him on lunch breaks and throwing him frustrated glances after hours at the apartment. A true testament to Jim’s improving attitude to the whole arrangement was his willingness to let Blair out of his sight and go back to the apartment on his own. Jim even gave Blair spare key.

                Apartment key tucked safely in his pocket and back pack slung over his shoulder, Blair adjusted his grip on the bus hand rail as he bumped his way back to the loft. He couldn’t help but smile as Jim’s last comment ran through his head again. “If you’re cooking dinner tonight remember, none of that hippie grass you brought for lunch that first week.”

                Two weeks ago Jim wouldn’t even let him stand in the living room without strict supervision. Now, almost two weeks later Jim was letting him go back to cook dinner on his own, without worrying that Blair would look through his stuff or divert to some GSC office and spill his guts about the secret life of Sentinels in hiding. The thought was warming and more than a little encouraging.

                Perhaps, Blair thought as he exited the bus and turned the corner for their building, he was getting through the impossibly thick barriers Jim had built around himself. The more he got to know Jim and the more he saw how well Jim managed his senses, the more Blair reconsidered the established balance between Guides and Sentinels. True, there were some areas that Jim needed help with, even if he didn’t want to admit it, but Blair could see that with the right training a Sentinel didn’t need to be so completely dependent on their Guide as was generally accepted. Blair’s own training and the training from the GSC focused on the importance of a Sentinel having a Guide as a matter of course and for even the smallest sensory issues. Still, here was evidence that the role of a Guide was more for the bigger challenges rather than the daily annoyances.

                Opening the door and starting up the stairs, the smile dropped into a thoughtful frown as Blair reconsidered the subject. When Blair first started their agreement, Blair partly intended to convince Jim that he was better off getting a Guide and Blair still thought that was largely true. Jim needed a Guide, but only for the occasions like that the hostage situation or for the more intense crime scenes. The more he saw how Jim could coped the more he realized how detrimental having too controlling a Guide could be. Without pushing himself and opening himself to potentially harmful situations, Jim would never have developed the control he had. A Guide’s tendency was always to protect their Sentinel, to steer them from harmful and uncomfortable situations. Now it seemed more than likely that instead of helping their Sentinels, Guides as a group were making their Sentinels over-dependent and over-sensitive.

                From a strictly academic approach, the concept was fascinating. Blair already had a paper planned out in his head. From a personal perspective, it was disturbing in the extreme and only led to even more frightening conclusion. Blair paused on the on the landing as he continued on that train to its logical conclusion. One of the observations in the drop in Sentinel numbers was the shortened life expectancy. Sentinels died at a younger age now than they had a hundred years ago. Many people believed the cause stemmed from the multitude of chemicals in modern society. However, if Guides were essentially training their Sentinels to be more sensitive, or in plain words weaker, then they were essentially helping cause the premature deaths of their own Sentinels. Looked at the blunt way, Guides were killing the Sentinels.

                The though filled Blair with dread. The irony that it was the controlling ways of Guides and society at large that were destroying Sentinels, either weakening their resistance or driving them into hiding was not lost on Blair. He bit back a bitter laugh as he resumed his climb up the stairs. What Guides needed to do to fix the problem was exactly what their title said, _guide_ not control. It would be a difficult thing to convince everyone else of that, though. He didn’t have any evidence to back it up. Proving it would mean studies over years to show the connection and that was assuming he could find underground Sentinels and convince them to participate in the first place.

                Still, Blair couldn’t see the situation continuing for much longer. Things had to change before they deteriorated irrevocably. He didn’t know how, but he resolved that somehow he’d find a way to bring the problem to light _without_ endangering Jim. It would be tricky, taking time and tact, and he would have to talk about it to Jim before he did anything. He wasn’t even sure how to start but he’d find a way.

                Resolution made, Blair ran up the last few steps. Pulling out the key and thinking about dinner, it wasn‘t until he had the door open that he realized he wasn‘t alone.

                “Hello Blair,” the voice was instantly recognizable, but Blair refused to believe it until he turned and came face to face with Dr. Hedrick.

 TBC…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own it.

**Chapter 12**

                Blair turned slowly, wishing with the depths of his heart that he had imagined the voice he just heard, but no. There, sitting casually on the stairs to the sixth floor as though he was visiting an old and good friend was Dr. Hedrick. Blair couldn’t seem to find words to speak as he struggled to understand just what the man was doing there, at Jim’s apartment.

                Dr. Hedrick didn‘t seem uncomfortable at all in Blair‘s silence, instead continued on like it was another chat within the college halls. “Fancy finding you here. I knew you had been spending more time with the detective from my inquiries, but I hadn’t realized exactly how much until just now.”

                _Inquiries? That wasn’t good._ “What are you doing here?” Blair blurted out. He almost flinched at the shock in his voice, the utter bafflement of what to do with this unforeseen circumstance. Jim had told him to keep his head in situations like this, told him how far bluffing your way through an unfavorable situation could get you when no salvation seemed possible. He desperately tried to rally the carefully built façade he’d developed to throw others off the track, though this time he wasn’t so sure if it would work, not with this man.

                “Oh, I came to talk to Detective Ellison, but he doesn’t appear to be home,” Hedrick said, standing up and sliding his hands into his pockets.

                “He had some work to finish up,” Blair said with a shrug, “I’ll let him know you dropped by.” _Oh boy, will I let him know_.

                “I don’t mind waiting,” Hedrick said in a reassuring tone as he side stepped Blair and moved through the open door before Blair could stop him. “I don’t have anything else planned for tonight so my time is free to wait on the Detective. I am quite anxious to speak with him.”

                “You could always use the phone,” Blair muttered, as he stepped into the apartment and shut the door behind them. He had to find a way to make Hedrick leave before Jim got back.

                “Some things need to be discussed in person,” Hedrick replied amiably. He strolled around the living room taking in the decorations and space with interest. Blair noticed how his eyes lingered on the heavy drapes that framed the windows.

                Making a quick sweep of the room, Blair was thankful to see Jim had hidden away all of the white-noise generators. At first, he hadn’t understood Jim’s need to hide things even in his own home, but now he was grateful for Jim’s foresight. No doubt, the man had been planning for a situation exactly like this. Turning back to the doctor, Blair tried to go over everything Jim said he should do when he met Hedrick next. He’d gotten used to covering up at the police station, but those men weren’t looking for anything and it was always easier to hide something when no one was looking for it. Dr. Hedrick, Blair could tell from the man’s close scrutiny of the apartment, was looking for something, something Blair had inadvertently tipped him off to, unfortunately. That, plus the man’s sudden appearance here of all places, had Blair very badly off balance.

                But this was Blair’s fault. He needed to fix it.

                Blair took a silent, deep breath to steal himself before starting. He could either end this now or blow it completely. “Jim is a very private person, he won’t appreciate you coming into his home uninvited.” He moved to the couch and dropped his backpack down, keeping one eye on the doctor at all times. _Act as though nothing is wrong_ , he recited to himself, _don’t get too defensive too soon, find an opening for it_.

                “Luckily, I have a chaperone,” Hedrick shot a tight lipped smile at Blair. “Besides, I really am eager to talk to the detective.”

                “What do you need to talk to Jim about that’s so desperate you have to come into his home without his permission?” Blair asked as casually as possible. He turned to face Hedrick, arms crossing over his chest.

                Hedrick turned to regard Blair for a moment, as if debating something himself. “I’ve been looking into that theory you had earlier. It occurred to me that you might have found someone at the police station who fit the bill and let’s face it Blair, you have been spending quite a bit of time with Detective Ellison.”

                “He’s my liaison,” Blair said with a roll of his eyes, “Of course I spend time with him. That’s the point of a liaison. Police stations are closed societies so if I manage to become close to the people I work with there, it means I’m doing my job right, as an anthropologist.”

                “You have a key to the detective’s apartment.” Hedrick cocked his head. “That’s more than just becoming friends with him.”

                “My place needs fumigating. I thought it would be interesting to observe a cop’s life at home as well as at the office. It’s not something specifically mentioned in my study, but no one talks about it in any study, really. I took a chance and asked around. Ellison had a spare room,” Blair leaned in with a sly grin, “but don’t tell him about the study idea. It took all the cajoling I had to let me crash for a few weeks. Like I said he’s very private.” _Actually, that would be an interesting study_ , Blair thought briefly, but turned his attention back to Hedrick. If he could keep the doctor’s attention on him and the conversation until Jim got back, then he could hand over damage control to someone with more experienced. As long as Hedrick didn’t go snooping this was still salvageable.

                Hedrick chuckled, “Your secret is safe with me. “According to Captain Banks, you asked for Ellison specifically. Why is that?” the doctor asked. His tone was still amiable but there was something more to it too much like a trap spider waiting for a chance to strike.

                “We met in the elevator on the way up,” Blair answered honestly. This was an interrogation. It was a pleasant one but he’d seen enough of them at the station to recognize it. He needed to turn the conversation around. “I really can’t say when Jim’s going to get back. Things were crazy today with one thing after another. When I left, he was still finishing up paper work and might be at it for another couple of hours. It’d be better if you just came back sometime when he was actually home. Set up an appointment to meet him, instead of just showing up out of the blue and uninvited.”

                Dr. Hedrick wasn’t listening. He turned back to the curtains and examined them much closer. He flicked them out and watched the dark shadows they cast on the floor. From the curtains, he turned to the cabinet and before Blair could say another word had the door open and was peering into the contents. Blair scowled at the blatant invasion in privacy, pushing back the memory of his own snooping a couple of weeks previous. The situation had been completely different, after all, Blair said to himself.

                Clearly, politeness and distraction were not working. Blair stepped up to the cabinet and snapped the door shut, almost clipping the doctor’s nose with the sudden movement. He crossed his arms tight over his chest and tried to make himself look as intimidating as possible, though somehow he felt the effect was not as impressive as when Jim did it.

                “Is there a reason why you’re searching Jim’s private home?” Blair asked with righteous indignation.

                “He’s a Sentinel, isn’t he?” Hedrick said, a gleam of triumph in his eye, “That’s why you requested him as a liaison. You could tell there was something different about him.”  
                Blair stiffened at the sudden direction of the conversation, the doctor’s accusation making his thought processes skip for a moment. He schooled his features, hopeful he hadn’t let anything show, and went back to Jim’s advice in his head. The man wouldn’t believe an outright lie at this point so Blair figured a half- lie would be the safest course.

                “I thought when I first met Jim that he might have some repressed abilities, but it wasn’t long before I realized he’s not a Sentinel, not really,” Blair said, sounding as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. The doctor looked at him with flat, unbelieving expression that flicked back to the cabinet behind Blair. Realizing what Hedrick had seen Blair continued on in an exasperated tone, “Jim has sensitive hearing. Not up to Sentinel standards, but strong enough to give him an edge in the field and also give him migraines.” After a brief pause, Blair decided to throw in for good measure, “I’m working on a new theory. I think it’s possible Sentinel abilities are becoming increasingly diluted in the population. People are getting one or two of the senses, but not all five, hence our difficulty in finding full blown Sentinels because there just aren’t as many anymore. They’re not needed as a full package so they’re coming out in piecemeal, so to speak.”

                Blair forced his shoulders to relax, willing himself to look confident and assured in the improvised theory. Actually, it wasn’t a bad idea to look into. Hedrick for his part seemed to be considering the idea. He didn’t look convinced, but he furrowed his brow in consideration and that was what Blair needed. Just a little bit of doubt could grow and blossom into disbelief. It was like what Jim had said, he didn’t need to convince the man right here and now. He just needed to nudge him in the right direction.

                “I suppose it’s possible,” the doctor grudgingly agreed. He turned and paced a few steps away. “I don’t believe it, but it is possible. He should still come down and take the tests. It’s the best way to know for sure.”

                “I already gave him a few tests when I first met him and I found exactly what I just told you. His hearing is above average and he has very good eyesight, but not a Sentinel,” Blair said with an exaggerated sigh, “Going down to the GSC would be a waste of time. I’ll suggest it but I know what he’ll say.”

                “Nonsense, it’s standard procedure. Unless,” Hedrick paused, turning to Blair again. “You’re covering for him, helping him hide. It wouldn‘t be that surprising, there‘s a very long waiting list for Guides without a Sentinel. Now you have one all to yourself. Keeping one to yourself without telling anyone would be selfish, don’t you think?”

                Blair rolled his eyes, channeling his dramatic teenaged self. “Oh come on, paranoia doesn’t suit you, Doc.” The doctor was skating far too close to the truth for comfort and Blair hoped he was putting on an award winning performance to deter him. Blair was so focused on Dr. Hedrick he didn’t notice the door open or the cloud of anger that followed until a loud cough interrupted him. The two turned to find Jim standing in the doorway, a dark, stormy expression on his face to match the anger and fear filling the room like invisible smoke. Blair let out a breath of relief while at the same time feeling his heart sink with dread at Jim finding them in his apartment. Jim would know how to handle the situation better, but Blair didn’t even want to think on how it all looked.

                Rallying his nerve, Blair stepped forward. “Jim,” he said with a strained smile. He cleared his throat before continuing, hoping to head off any unfortunate misunderstandings. “This is Doctor Hedrick. He stopped by _unexpectedly_ just now.”

                Jim’s eyes shifted to the doctor and nodded almost unperceptively. His steady gaze was hardly friendly but there hadn’t been any decapitations just yet. Blair took that as a good sign and pressed. “The doctor here thought there was a chance that you could be a Sentinel,” Blair tried to chuckle at the ridiculous notion, it came out more nervous than he wanted, “but I explained how only your hearing and maybe sight is above average.”

                Blair’s eyes flicked over to the doctor, hoping his tone was reasonable enough to give the impression that this was normal while also getting the message across to Jim. The frosty glare on Jim’s face said he got the message but that he didn’t like it one bit. Jim finally stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind him though he didn’t run through the usual ritual of putting away his keys, jacket, and weapon.

                “Yes, Blair was just explaining to me a theory he has about handing down senses in singles or pairs rather than the whole set,” Hedrick said casually, if he noticed the tension in the room he didn’t let on as he placed both his hands into his pockets again. “Tell me, what do you think about the whole thing, Detective Ellison?”

                Blair held his breath before forcing himself to exhale normally, feeling the stress of the situation at hand. Hopefully, Jim had overheard most of their conversation and would be able to reply as though he and Blair had spoken on the subject before now. Jim regarded the doctor with the same cold scowl he gave most people, something Blair realized he hadn‘t received in a while. The thought warmed his heart, but he didn’t have time to dwell on the matter as he studied the two other men in the room.

                Looking again at Jim, Blair was relieved to see the detective’s ability to control his emotions so well. The man was cold and stiff and scowling, but he was always that way. He had a reputation for being that way on normal days so any tension he now felt could be easily hidden in his normal demeanor. If Blair hadn’t known better he would have thought Jim was nothing more than annoyed, perhaps a little angry, at finding an intrusive stranger in his home, but Blair could feel the anger, anxiety, and fear rolling off the man. More than that, Blair knew Jim on a personal level now. He knew even without picking up Jim’s emotions that the man’s mind was spinning at a million thoughts per second, analyzing the situation, the best approach to take, the dangers and risks with each course of action.

                “In all honesty, doctor,” Jim said in a measured and deliberate tone void of any emotion, “I’ve never had much interest in the subject. In fact, I distinctly remember telling Sandburg off for distracting me with his academic rambling.”

                “That’s too bad. It’s an interesting proposition, though I don’t believe a word of it. You see he’s attempting to explain away your exceptional hearing and sight as a singular traits passed down in lieu of an entire set of Senses. He suggests that this might be the cause for the sudden drop in Sentinels in the past two decades.”

                Jim’s eyes shifted over to Blair for a moment before turning back to the doctor.

                Hedrick strolled back to the thick curtains that hung over the windows. He fingered the edge, testing the thickness between his fingers as he spoke. “In my professional opinion, though, I find it highly unlikely that a person would receive only one or two senses elevated to the level suggested by your white noise generators so carefully hidden in that cupboard. I would suggest that only one sense has truly surfaced, and the others are still dormant. That…or you are trying to hide your abilities,” Hedrick stared at Jim.

                “Doctor,” Blair admonished with a huff and a deep frown, “I doubt Detective Ellison would actively hide abilities that could help the department. Look at his record! He’s given more time to the department than anyone else there. It’s clear where his priorities lie.”

                “You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe a Guide whom appears to have been helping this man hide at least one heightened sense,” Hedrick’s tone remained polite, though the words took a distinctly snide turn. He turned toward Blair, completely disregarding Jim’s presence and continued emphatically, “This man owes it to society to employ his abilities to help others and in return society owes it to him to protect him from the dangers he is vulnerable to because of those abilities.”

                Blair could see Jim’s expression pinch at being spoken about as though he weren’t there. He probably would have stiffened even further if his body hadn’t already been as tense as a rope.

                “There’s no law that says a Sentinel has to reveal himself,” Blair argued back not sure if he wanted to waste everyone’s time arguing about the philosophy of the subject with a man who had already made up his mind. “That’s doubly true if a person only has one or two above average senses. It would be a waste of resources having every person that might have better eyesight or hearing or taste or anything come in to take the tests.”

                Hedrick dismissed the fact with a wave of his hand, “There is no _written_ law, not yet, at least. That will change soon enough when people realize that there are Sentinels hiding themselves among normal people. Think of the risk they’re putting themselves to without proper help, and the many public services and professions that need Sentinels but don’t have them. When people find out the legislation will go through that much quicker.” Hedrick finally looked back to Jim, though clearly still talking to Blair, “But that’s a mute point at the moment, we can clear up our disagreement with a few simple tests down at the GSC.”

                “I think I’ll pass,” Jim said, a growl underlying his words, “I’ve got far more important things to do with the little down time I get than come down to your GSC and waste my evening. It’s been a day and half as it is so I need you to get out of my home.” Jim turned and opened the door for the doctor to leave.

                The doctor shook his head as he moved away from the two, “Nonsense, it won’t take too long. It’s after official hours but there’s always staff available for emergencies or these types of situations and that will make it go all the more quickly.”

                Hedrick turned to the phone placed on one end of the counter. Blair shot Jim a panicked look as the doctor lifted the receiver. Jim held up a hand as he closed the door again, stopping any protests from spilling out of Blair’s mouth. In one smooth motion, Jim drew his pistol, stepped up behind Hedrick and clocked the doctor hard across the head.

                Blair stood in shock as Doctor Hedrick crashed to the ground, taking the phone and a bowl of fruit with him. Apples rolled across the floor, bumping over the tile with muted thuds. Jim calmly stepped over the body, lifted the phone and replaced it on the cradle, silencing the dial tone in the otherwise quiet apartment.

                It took several minutes for Blair to recover from the shock of what had just happened, and even then it was Jim’s resigned, “Well, I guess that’s that,” which fully snapped Blair back to the present. He looked up from the unconscious body, but Jim was already on the stairs and disappearing into his room.

                “Jim?” Blair said, glancing one last time at Hedrick before he moved to follow. “What do you mean, ‘that’s that’? Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?!” He ran up the stairs stopping in the doorway at the sight of Jim packing. “What are you doing?” he demanded, voice strident as he tried to keep up with events spiraling out of control.

                “What’s it look like I’m doing?” Jim snapped, stuffing some shirts into a duffle, “It’s over, I’m out.” He threw some jeans and other clothes down on the bed and pulled an already packed military rucksack out from the closet.

                Blair shook his head, stubbornly refusing to believe what has happening. “It’s not over. We can still work this out. Yeah, it’ll be more complicated now that you _assaulted_ Hedrick, but…but we can tell him he tripped or something.”

                Jim shot him a disbelieving look and continued packing. Angrily, Blair stormed farther into the room blocking Jim from his bag. “I’m sure he won’t remember how it actually happened. Then, you can fake the test, fail it on purpose-”

                “You _can’t fake_ those tests, Blair. A couple years ago you could, but they’ve gotten too go now at forcing things out of you. I’ve heard what those tests are like now,” Jim almost yelled, staring Blair down, he continued in earnest, “You know you can’t fake them. If I go in there to take any test I won’t be coming out again.” He side stepped around Blair and pulled the bag closer, stuffing in some pants.

                “We can talk to Hedrick, explain-” Blair said, more out of desperation than anything else.

                Jim paused a moment to ask, “Do you really think that will work?” He turned back to the half packed bag, “I’ve met people like him before. He’s not going to let this go and he’s not going to forget it. By all rights, if I really want to keep my life I should just kill him, dispose of the body where no one will find him and pretend like none of this happened.”

                The blood drained from Blair’s face and he stammered, trying to find a response for that.

                Shaking his head, Jim reassured him. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to kill him, but one of us has to go. Since I’m not willing to commit murder to keep this up, it’s got to be me.”

                Blair got angry then, well and truly angry. After weeks of getting to know Jim, slowly earning the man’s trust, watching and helping him hide, he’d seen another side, another way to do things. Sentinels didn’t have to be frail and vulnerable to the outside world. There was a healthier, stronger partnership available between Sentinels and Guides if they only changed their approach. He was convinced they could improve the way things were, he wasn’t sure how but it was worth the try. Now, that opportunity was crumbling before his very eyes.

                “So you’re just going to give up,” Blair said, throwing his hands up as he fumed, “After everything you told me about not flinching and bluffing your way through a bad situation. Everything you’ve gone through to stay on the force, help people, build a life for yourself…one bump in the road and you’re just throwing it all away and running.” Blair was yelling by the end of his rant, his breath coming out harsh and fast.

                Jim growled. He didn’t look at Blair, but retrieved more supplies from his wardrobe, “It’s about limits. If you’re going to bluff you have to know when your bluff’s been called and it’s time to throw in your cards. If you’re going to lie, you have to know what you’re willing to do to preserve that lie. I spent a lot of time thinking about where my line is, what I’m willing to do and not willing to do to keep up my life here in Cascade. Murder is across that line so the only thing left to do is a tactical retreat, _not_ running away.”

                “Why can’t we just tell everyone?” Blair offered, trying to think of any solution to their current problem before Jim had a chance to disappear for good. “He doesn’t have the law on his side. We can take him to court, make a big stink about the whole thing to the public. When people know how many Sentinels feel this way, when they know about how Sentinels get treated…” He trailed off, thinking of what Hedrick had said.

                Jim echoed his thoughts out loud, “There’s no guarantee I’d win. Besides, there might not be a law about Sentinels reporting themselves, but there are regulations about public endangerment on the force, failure to report a medical condition, and any number of other things they could twist to meet the situation. You think I have gone over all of this on my own? You’re asking me to be the sacrificial lamb, Sandburg, and I’m not going to do that. Things don’t change overnight and I’m not willing to give up the rest of my life for a public awareness stunt that could just as easily backfire.”

                Blair growled in frustration as he paced across the room, kicking at a t-shirt that dropped on the floor. “This isn’t fair! You shouldn’t have to do this!”

                Everything was going so well and now, in less than an hour, it was all ruined. Jim was leaving, possibly forever, and Blair would be left behind to deal with the fall out. Hedrick would certainly take this as a confirmation of his suspicions. Blair didn’t know exactly how it would all play out from there, but he could definitely say it was only going to go downhill.

                Still, the thing that struck him the most was the thought of never seeing Jim again. Despite his best efforts and Jim’s constant reminders and attempts to keep Blair at arm’s length, Blair had grown attached to Jim. He could read Jim better than any other Sentinel he’d ever met and he honestly enjoyed being around the man, even with the temper and harsh attitude sometimes. Looking past the rough exterior, Jim wasn’t nearly as cold as he portrayed himself to be and the past two weeks Jim had finally been opening up, albeit slowly. Blair couldn’t bear for it all to end so soon.

                “Sometimes life isn’t fair, Blair,” Jim said zipping his bag close. His voice was heavier than Blair had ever heard it and suddenly Blair saw what it might be like for Jim. To work so hard and then have it all crash down for nothing. Under the anger and cold determination was a deep regret and sadness.

                Blair made his decision in that moment, nodding to himself, he said, “I’m coming with you.”

                “What?” Jim asked, turning to look at him in astonishment.

                “I’m coming with you,” Blair repeated, raising his chin in determination, “You shouldn’t have to do this alone. I’m not going to let you do it alone.”

                Jim let out a sigh, rubbing his eyes and looking tired like Blair hadn’t seen before. “Look, Blair… you’re a good man. You’ve had the chance to see both sides of the fence and now you have a chance to do some good in this mess. You’re in the system. You can change things for the better. I’m not going to let you ruin that chance by following me off to who-knows-where. I appreciate it, I really do. I appreciate the effort you made for me down there and I think I would even…enjoy having you along, but you can’t come with me.”

                Jim paused a moment, looking as if he wanted to say more but couldn’t bring himself to continue. Blair was surprised he’d gotten that much out, considering how reticent Jim could be about sharing his emotions. Jim avoided Blair’s eyes the entire time, focusing instead on a point over Blair’s shoulder or on the floor between them. The speech only strengthened Blair’s resolve, though. He wouldn’t let Jim go through this alone.

                “I don’t care what you say about it, I’m coming,” Blair said with a shake of his head. He turned and headed back toward the staircase, “I’ll just put some clothes in my backpack. Don’t try to sneak out without me, I’ll know.”

                Blair was only half way to the door when he heard Jim say in apology, “Sorry, Chief” and felt a sharp pain in the back of his skull. There was a rush of gravity and then nothing.

 TBC…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to get this up sooner, but things have been busy. Hope you enjoy it! Your comments are definitely helping with the edits and shaping parts of the next story, so keep them coming! :D


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own the Sentinel.

**Chapter 13**

                Jim ensured the door was locked when he left, not that there was much point now, but long standing habit and the principle of the matter ensured the lock was turned and the door firmly shut. Plus, he didn’t want anyone wandering in while Blair was still unconscious and vulnerable. True, Hedrick hadn’t gotten his call out so there was no reason to expect anyone else, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. He turned from the door to make his way back to the truck, but couldn‘t move forward due to the large panther sitting in the way of the stairwell.

                 Jim felt his blood chill as the panther stared at him. It did not look happy, in fact, it looked angry and disappointed. 

                “It’s not going to work out,” Jim said almost too low to hear, “This is the best option at this moment.”

                The panther growled.

                “It’s not that I don’t like him, I do, but I don’t know him enough to risk spending the rest of my life in a home or on a leash. Besides this will be safer for him anyway, now they can’t accuse him of helping me.”

                The panther snorted and continued its accusing stare.

                Jim opened his mouth again when he realized that he was wasting time arguing with the cat, when he had very little time to spare in the first place. “If you don’t like it, you can stay here,” Jim said, stepping over the cat with caution and hurrying down the stair case.

                Jim took the stairs two at a time, gauging how far he could get before Blair would probably wake up. He hadn’t hit Blair nearly as hard as he hit the doctor so Blair could be coming round at any moment. What Blair did after he woke was another matter, but Jim was willing to bet that the Guide wouldn’t call the authorities in on him. He might follow, him, though, if Blair knew where to go. Jim grunted to himself as the echo of his steps followed him down the stairs. Blair would definitely follow him. Luckily, Blair didn’t have a car.

                Hedrick, on the other hand, would definitely call in reinforcements from the GSC which, while problematic, was not as bad as having the police called on him. Jim trusted Blair would be able to prevent any immediate police involvement with a counter story to any possible claim of assault Hedrick reported. It was a shitty situation to leave Blair and Jim regretted having to, but better than the Guide trashing his life with Jim’s.

                Before leaving, Jim gave serious consideration to tying Hedrick up, but ultimately decided against it. Tying up Hedrick would just make explaining more difficult for Blair. Plus, right now, the only charges Hedrick could legally bring against Jim was that possible assault charge. With the attack coming from behind and the only witness being Blair, there was wiggle room Jim could use if necessary. Restraining the doctor would be more difficult to explain and probably get his fellow officers of the law involved that much more quickly. Jim never planned on being around to face any charges one way or another. He planned on a clean get away, but this kept his options open for plans C, D, E, and however many plans he needed after that if he didn’t get away. It was a calculated risk and hopefully one that would give him more options than not later on if things got worse.

                Jim ripped the outer door opened and stormed across the parking lot to his truck, angry at himself, Blair, Hedrick, and the whole situation. The doctor was in the wrong. Jim knew he hadn’t broken any written laws. Jim was perfectly within his legal rights to withhold his abilities from the public if not the police force for safety purposes, but sometimes it wasn’t just about written laws. Jim knew this from years of working in the legal system and his time in the military. People got away with things they legally couldn’t do all the time and Jim could tell when the cards were stacked against him even if the law was technically on his side. He wrenched open the door to his truck and threw in his bags. He climbed in the driver’s seat and slammed the door behind him.

                Jim turned on the truck but hesitated at putting it into gear. Blair was right about at least one thing, leaving now would be throwing away all of his hard work, not just his career but his home as well. Everything he’d done and been through would be in vain. His frustration boiled up until he couldn’t contain it anymore. He hit the steering wheel, yelling a curse.

                Like Blair said, it _wasn’t_ fair that Jim was the one running. Hedrick was the one who should be in trouble. Jim was sure he could think up half a dozen charges to file against the doctor, starting with unlawful entry into Jim’s home. In theory the law _should_ have been on Jim’s side but the doctor was right that it was teetering. The GSC had a lot of connections and resources behind it and managed to bend the rules in their favor a little more with each new incident. Jim wasn’t sure if this push would make everything better or that much worse and he wasn’t ready to take that risk. There were too many other people out there in his exact same situation, Sentinels in hiding and living their own lives without the restrictive grip of the GSC around their throats. If Jim went to the authorities, reported what was happening, revealed what he was, he could very well open other Sentinels to the danger of exposure. If the GSC pressed the matter and won public opinion and started a witch hunt then it wouldn’t be just him losing his freedom, but every other Sentinel that was found as a result, not that there was any difference to that than what would happen now if discovered.

                Jim huffed a sigh. He was damned no matter what he did.

                Blair would probably say something about Jim protecting his tribe through his actions. Jim couldn’t deny that he did feel protective toward the other Sentinels out there, but because he knew what they were going through, not because of some biological imperative.

                Shaking his head, Jim threw the truck into gear only to stop yet again as he spotted the wolf sitting behind his truck in the middle of the parking lot. Turning back to the steering wheel, Jim steeled himself and backed the truck up and pulled out into the street. He barely left the lot when he caught a gray colored movement in the passenger seat by the corner of his eye. Jim didn’t need to look to know the wolf was sitting casually in the seat staring at his every move. Clenching his jaw, he rolled his eyes and put all his attention on getting out of the city as quickly as possible.

                Jim pulled out onto the highway, eyes focused on the road ahead of him and not at the unwanted passenger whining in the seat next to him. He hoped, despite his previous experiences, that if he ignored the wolf the thing would just give up and leave him alone. If it was anything like the house cat, though, he was going to be stuck with his stowaway for the foreseeable future.

                A few moments of silence came and Jim couldn’t help letting his eyes slide over to check if the mutt had left. It hadn’t. The wolf noticed, ears perking up from their relaxed position and a high pitched whine renewed in vigor. Jim snapped back to the road even as the mutt shifted around and rested its snout on Jim’s arm, staring up at him with pleading eyes. Jim couldn’t decide if this was worse or better than the cat. The panther was quiet but intense and infinitely patient. It fixed its penetrating gaze and stared, unwavering and unblinking until it felt its message had been received. This mutt, however, was insistent. It didn’t have the patience of the cat, seemed a little younger in all honesty, but the slightest move in indication you knew it was there set off the high pitched whine again. And it stared up at you with big blue eyes like you were the most horrible creature in the world for ignoring it.

                Jim didn’t know why the wolf was here and not the cat. He understood lees about spirit guides than he did about normal Guides. However he did know this tag-teaming bullshit was not playing fair. He knew how to handle the cat, mostly, but the wolf was working off a whole different set of rules.

                “Dogs man’s best friend my ass,” Jim grumbled, unthinkingly glaring down at the wolf. He grimaced as the action set off a whole new round of pitiful whining.

                “Oh shut up,” Jim finally said, rolling his eyes, “It’s not like you’re being murdered. You didn’t have to be here. You wanted to come along. You can poof yourself away whenever you want.”

                The wolf sat up straighter in the seat and looked pointedly behind them before turning to stare at Jim. They left the city limits miles back and the suburbs fell away in favor of fields and ever denser forests.

                “We’re not going back,” Jim said in a firm voice, “You can if you want, teleport or whatever it is you do, but I’m done. I can’t go back even if I wanted to. Hedrick and the GSC’ll put me in a glass cage.”

                The wolf snorted and shook his head in a quick motion.

                Jim shook his own head in return. “Blair’ll be having his own troubles keeping his Guide certification if they figure out he’s been covering for me. That’s not even considering the shit storm I just left him with Hedrick unconscious on the floor. He’s smart. He’ll figure out something to explain it…Hopefully, he’ll have enough sense to keep his mouth shut about the whole Sentinels hiding thing. They’d claim mal-practice or whatever they call it on him if they find out… I don’t know.” Jim glanced in the rearview mirror, then back to the road. “Like I said, Blair’s good at the obfuscation thing. He’ll figure out something to tell them and then he’ll be free to go on his personal crusade for the rights of all hidden Sentinels.” Jim wondered if he was trying to convince the wolf or himself.

                In truth, if Jim had to have a Guide he would have picked Sandburg. The man was competent and knew what he was doing and he wasn’t completely annoying to be around even if he did have his moments. They worked well together when all was said and done, but it all was a moot point when taking in the fact that Jim did not want a Guide. Besides, with his luck the GSC would assign him a different Guide, one that was supposed to keep him in line and keep him and Sandburg completely separated. That was the way the GSC worked, after all.

                The mutt whined again. Then, it shoved a cold, wet nose into Jim’s ear.

                “Mmf!” Jim grunted in surprise, jerking the wheel at the unpleasant feeling. “That’s enough!” he said, pushing the muzzle out of his ear and away from him. “I don’t _care_ if you don’t like it! Neither do I! But there are some things that you can’t change in life.”

                The dog let out a half hearted growl before whining again and looking up at him with huge eyes. Jim sighed, feeling more depressed than anything at the moment. The gas light suddenly blinked on, distracting his gaze with the bright red light. Next to it, the gauge read empty almost completely down to the capitol E. He couldn’t remember if he had filled up recently, but he didn’t usually let it get so far down. He threw a sidelong glance at the wolf sitting next to him. Up ahead, there was a sign for a gas station coming up on the next right. Jim frowned at the coincidence but threw his signal on and moved over to the right.

                “If you’ve had anything to do with this you’re staying here,” Jim growled as he pulled into the sparsely populated gas station. _Could_ spirit guides do something like this? Jim hoped not but wasn’t sure. No matter how much he tried to reassure himself he couldn’t throw off the feeling that the wolf had something to do with it, and probably that blasted panther as well. They were spirits, but they seemed real enough when they wanted to be. He knew he was probably being paranoid, but something told him things weren’t going to work out the way he’d planned. Either way, he needed gas. He’d fill up and then be on the road again in no time.               

* * *

 

                Blair woke up to a twelve piece band playing in his head and the strange sensation that someone was licking his face. He groaned and pried his eyes open to find an ice blue gaze staring back at him. For a moment, he couldn’t decide whether he was dreaming or not as he stared at the black panther crouched down in front of his face. Besides that, he could tell that he was lying on the floor. The hard wood flooring stuck to his cheek and behind the large cat the door to Jim’s room framed his view. Blair frowned as he failed to come up with any reason why he would be on the ground. The panther licked his face again and events suddenly came back in a rush.

                Hedrick at the apartment, Jim attacking Hedrick, Jim leaving…

                With a curse, Blair pushed himself to a sitting position despite his spinning head and refocused on the Panther sitting in front of him. It stared at him with those blue eyes, Jim’s eyes, he recognized suddenly. With a gasp Blair realized the cat was no remnant delusion from a head injury.

                “You’re Jim’s spirit guide,” Blair breathed, hardly daring to speak above a whisper incase the panther disappeared.

                Staring at the cat, Blair thought of all the times he’d seen Jim glancing under his desk or muttering under his breath. He’d had his suspicions before but he’d never expected to come face to face with the reality this way.

                Spirit guides were highly controversial among Sentinel studies experts. There was next to no documentation of them in modern time. Most of the references to spirit guides in general came from earlier accounts on Sentinels in early tribal societies. Most Sentinels questioned today either agreed it was simply an old wives’ tale or refused to talk about the subject on a whole. Coming face to face with one himself, Blair still wasn’t sure if this was real or just his scrambled brains projecting delusions.

                “But…Jim’s gone,” Blair said, confused why the panther would still be there if it was real, “Shouldn’t you be with him?”

                The cat pushed itself to sitting upright staring intently into Blair’s eyes.

                “Unless…you want me to find him,” Blair said, starting to feel hope again.

                If he had Jim’s spirit guide on his side then there wasn’t much the Sentinel could do about it.

                Blair gingerly pushed himself up to his feet, taking a moment to steady himself against the door frame. He cautiously felt the back of his head, surprised to find a much smaller goose egg than he was expecting. From the head ache he currently had, it felt like it should have been much bigger. The panther waited halfway down the stairs, looking back at him with expectation. Blair slowly followed down, hand on the railing to keep from toppling over. He couldn’t do anything if he got himself killed falling down the stairs.

                A quick scan of the room showed what he already knew, Jim was gone. The clock showed maybe ten minutes had passed since their argument. Dr. Hedrick was still unconscious on the floor. Clearly, Jim had hit him much harder than he had hit Blair. At least Hedrick was breathing just fine, so that was something.

                Blair sunk down to the couch unsure what to do. The panther was hovering near the door, its tail twitching with impatience. Blair looked over. He knew what the cat wanted. It wanted him to go after Jim, talk some sense into the man, and go with him if that failed, but he couldn’t think of a way to feasibly do that. He didn’t have a car. By now Jim and his truck would be on the highway heading to Heaven knew where. There was no way he could catch up short of stealing a car.

                Suddenly, the cat was right in his face, blue eyes staring unblinkingly. Blair jerked back his heart stuttering in his chest. He hadn’t heard the cat move. Of course, it was a spirit and a panther to boot, didn’t get much stealthier than that. The cat was obviously trying to tell him something, but Blair was new to this whole world of spirits and spirit animals. Jim might have been able to tell what the cat wanted and thinking of how he‘d seen the Sentinel holding muted conversations with the underside of his desk that was more than likely, but he had more experience. He knew what the cues were. Blair was still trying to get over the shock of…everything, not just waking to a spirit licking his face.

                The cat growled low in its throat, pulling Blair’s eyes down to it.

                “What?” he asked, frustration getting the better of him, “I know I need to get to Jim, but how? I’m not going to catch him walking!” Maybe sassing the spirit of a large and dangerous predator wasn’t smart but Blair was at his wit’s end and really didn’t care.

                The cat snorted then padded across to the still unconscious doctor, pawing at the man’s jacket until a set of keys fell out.

                Blair was fairly certain he didn’t need a translator for _that_. He got up, still a little unsteady on his feet and followed over to Hedrick. It occurred to him that this could well end his career. Helping a Sentinel hide would be enough but now he could be linked to assaulting Dr. Hedrick, even if he didn’t actually do anything. Maybe he’d be able to talk his way out of it, he probably could if he stayed and helped the doctor. Jim had given him a way out if he wanted it. The bump on his head could prove he hadn’t helped Jim get away. He could use that to tell the authorities all sorts of things.

                The panther was sitting by the door now, looking smug and a little impatient. It obviously knew what Blair was going to do. Looking down at the keys, Blair knew, too. When he’d found out about Jim, Blair hadn’t turned him in to the GSC. At first, it was only going to be a temporary thing until he could convince Jim to go in himself. Now he couldn’t want that life for Jim. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted that life for any Sentinel. The system was more broken than he could have thought if Sentinels were actively hiding from them, if something like that could happen.

                Jaw hardening, Blair bent down and took the keys. _What the Hell_ , he thought, he’d always wanted to jack a car.

                The panther spun and bounded through the door, Blair following close behind as purpose helped clear his head. Depending on when Hedrick woke up, he had maybe another half hour before the doctor reported his car as stolen and the cops started looking for it. Hopefully, he could find Jim before that. He really didn’t fancy adding running from the cops to the list he was building. He had a job, though, and he wasn’t going to let anyone stop him. 

* * *

                Blair was never going to steal another car in his life. Every police car he saw, every cop on the street he passed, every pedestrian that glanced at him seemed to know he was driving a stolen car. It was like he had a giant neon sign hanging on the door, though every time he checked he couldn’t see it. He just waited for the blue lights to appear in his rearview mirror. He didn’t know what he would do if that happened, probably slam down on the gas and die in a spectacular fiery crash after a short high-speed chase through the streets of Cascade. There were several tense moments when a cruiser followed him through three stop lights and two turns but they parted ways when Blair got on the highway.

                Blair breathed a sigh of relief when he finally left the city. It was only then that he realized he had no idea where he was going. He’d been so worried about being caught he hadn’t been paying attention to where he was going, just heading for the highway with the assumption that’s where Jim would go. Now, suddenly, he found himself heading out of the city suburbs. Blair glanced over to see the panther still sitting calmly in the passenger seat. It was gazing intently through the windshield, like it was hunting its prey. Blair felt sorry for Jim all of a sudden.

                The cat probably knew where it was going, at least Blair hoped so. He assumed the cat would let him know if he made a wrong turn, preferably without biting his head off.

                Blair drove into the towering pines that stood past the suburbs and near the mountains. He drove on the highway with no indication that he was heading in the right direction, but more importantly with no indication he was going the _wrong_ way. Until, that is, he passed a small gas station.

                The panther snarled bearing its very long teeth and making a tiny lunge at Blair so suddenly Blair jerked, slamming on the brakes and burning the tires on the road. Thankfully there were no cars behind him otherwise he wasn’t sure they would have survived. Well, he wasn’t sure _he_ would survive, Blair corrected himself as he dropped his forehead onto the steering wheel and attempted to get his breath under control. The cat would have probably survived just fine, damn it.

                The growling brought Blair’s head back up but this time the panther was looking behind them back at the gas station. Its eyes were fixed in that intense stare that reminded Blair a little of Jim. When he thought about it the panther and Jim were actually quite similar, but another growl brought his focus back on the task at hand.

                “Right, gas station,” Blair said, flicking on his signal and slowly turning in the road to head back. He vaguely wondered when his life had come to the point where he was taking directions from a spirit panther.

                Blair pulled into the gas station moving at a crawl after his sudden and unpleasant stop in the road. He had a feeling the cat didn’t like that very much, but if that was the case then it had to learn not to almost give him a heart attack and cause car wrecks. There weren’t many cars at the station. Rush hour was over and the traffic had dwindled down to a trickle. However, pulling into the parking lot, Blair’s eyes immediately fell on Jim’s truck parked sitting at a one of the back gas pumps. Blair pulled around to a spot next to a large SUV in the side parking.

                As soon as Blair stopped the car, the panther leapt out, dropping through the door and circling around to wait for him. Blair exited the car slower than the cat. Now that the moment was on him, he wasn’t eager to just jump out from behind a building and confront the Sentinel. Jim _had_ knocked him unconscious almost an hour ago. Plus, he had no idea what he was going to say to Jim, now that he thought of it. He needed to come up with something good enough to convince Jim to come back or take him too.

                Blair hurried up to the back corner of the building, peering around to the truck where he would be able to see Jim cross from the store to the truck. There was no one inside the truck so Jim had to be in the store. The panther strolled out past the corner then turned to look at him. After seeing that Blair wasn’t following this time, it seemed to shake its head before trotting around and out of sight. Blair waited a moment, running through different arguments for his cause, how he was going to approach the whole confrontation. There had to be something he could say or do. Perhaps he should be more forceful, put his foot down and refuse to let Jim just leave without him. He couldn’t picture that turning out any different than it did in the apartment. Maybe he should just handcuff himself to Jim’s truck, then swallow the key, if he had handcuffs. He could just hide in the bed of the truck and hope the man with the super hearing didn’t notice him. Blair was still debating between these equally poor options when a voice behind him nearly sent Blair out of his skin.

                “Bair, what the Hell are you doing here?”

* * *

 

                Jim was so focused on the people in his immediate vicinity he almost missed it. He didn’t recognize that telltale thumping that gradually grew louder until he saw the house cat stroll out from the side of the building and in through the door. The wolf yipped in delight and bounded to the panther, circling it before coming back to Jim.

                Jim stopped and glared at the cat. He didn’t like the smug look it had on its face at all. “Where have you been?” he asked, just barely remembering to step behind a rack of junk food and lower his voice. He still received a strange look from the cashier despite his efforts. “Probably up to no go-”

                That was when Jim recognized it. Blair’s heart beat right outside the door and around the corner. The damn cat had gone behind his back and ratted him out. Jim ground his teeth, glaring at the cat and then down at the mutt that was panting happily by his side. Both of them were in on it. Well two could play at that game, Jim thought. He didn’t appreciate spirit animals trying to plan out his life any more than the faceless GSC. He couldn’t run from them, but he could at least try and make Sandburg go away. Granted, knocking the man unconscious didn’t work, but if at first you don’t succeed, try different tactics.

                Turning back around, Jim walked back to the counter and the increasingly suspicious looking clerk. “Do you have a back door to this place?”

                The teen seemed to hesitate until Jim leveled a glare at him and he pointed to a white painted door with an “EMPLOYEES ONLY” sign hanging from it.

                Jim was through the door before the teen could even comment. He hurried through a poorly furnished stock and break room. The chairs and table took up most of the free space not taken by boxes of chips and jerky. Jim had to consciously not push the chairs out of his way too hard for fear they would break apart from more abuse. The only other door in the room with a faded red exit sign was heavy but opened on well-oiled hinges. He followed the heartbeat around to the side.

                Blair stood half peering around the corner. Probably waiting for Jim to come out from behind the building to ambush him, Jim thought.

                “Blair, what the Hell are you doing here?” Jim asked, taking more pleasure than he should in the way Blair jumped and spun around in surprise.

                For a moment, Blair floundered, guilt at being caught apparent on his face. Then he rallied and straightened his shoulders. His face grew hard and his jaw was set, stubbornness rising in every part of him. Jim raised his eyebrows, waiting for the shoe to drop. This wasn’t going to be pretty.

                “Jim,” Blair said, then stalled.

                “What are you doing here?” Jim asked again, jumping into the brief moment of hesitation while Blair tried to think of what else to say.

                That seemed enough to prod Blair into continuing. “What do you think?” he asked, “Looking for you! What do you mean just leaving like that? You can’t give up so easy!”

                Jim shook his head and glanced over to the cat and mutt. The two spirits sitting nearby watching the growing argument like a tennis match did not help his temper. A car pulled up to the open gas pump, camping gear strapped to the roof. Jim jerked his head and led the way to the backside of the store. The woods stood at the edge of the cracked parking lot, a rusty and dirty dumpster the only other thing in the back lot. Jim moved so they were well concealed by the building and then turned to face Blair.

                "We already went over this," Jim ground out when he was sure of their privacy.

                "No," Blair said, growing more stubborn by the minute, "You went over it. You took one look at the situation, panicked, and left!"

                "Panic had very little to do with. You don't fully understand the situation," Jim said, pacing away, trying to control his temper. This complication was costing him valuable lead time to get away from the city.

                "He was in your home without your permission. He was in the wrong. You could charge breaking and entering and hold him accountable for that at least no matter what he did later on," Blair said, gesturing with his arms.

                Jim scowled, forehead furrowed and eyebrows drawn together. "That sounds all well and good in theory, but it won’t work. You have a key I gave you. You’ve been staying at my place for weeks. If you brought a friend over from the university, I could not claim he broke into my place if you let him in, just like making that claim stick in this situation will not work. I’ve seen enough domestic disputes to know how these things end up! Besides, as soon as he told everyone what I am all of that wouldn't have mattered."

                "But the law-" Blair started to argue.

                Jim cut him off before he got any farther. "The law doesn't matter!" he barely restrained his yell, "The rules are different for people like me. It's an unofficial double standard and the law will get changed to reflect that soon enough." The last part just came out defeated. Jim sighed, scrubbing both hands over his face. Several moments of silence followed. "How did you find me?" Jim asked in a heavy voice then frowned in confusion.

                "Actually," Blair said, pride shining from every inch of him as he straightened his shoulders, "the panther showed me." He pointed to the cat sitting with a smug smile and staring pointedly at Jim.

                For a moment, Jim could only stare, first at Blair, then at the spirits. "You...you can...you can see him?" he finally managed to push out.

                "Well, there's two of them now," Blair said, eyeing the wolf with uncertainty, "Where did the wolf come from? He is with the panther, right? He’s…not…you know, a real wolf…"

                Jim continued to stare, unable to string a coherent sentence together. No one had ever seen the panther before, besides him. He didn't know much about the whole spirit…thing. He barely understood it, but from what he read on his own it seemed most people didn't even think spirit animals existed. Certainly, the “experts” didn't and the Sentinels just didn't seem to talk about it. Though, Sentinels didn’t seem to write anything in the academic realm at all. Jim thought others might have spirit animals based on the few observations and limited interaction he'd had with others in hiding. Still, he'd never heard of another person seeing someone else's spirit guide. Jim didn't think he liked the idea, at all.

                When Jim still failed to answer, Blair shifted from one foot to the other. "The panther is your spirit guide, right?"

                Jim nodded almost by rote, still unsure what to say. If Blair could see the cat, what did that mean? He didn't know in the slightest, but he had a sneaky suspicion he wouldn't like the answer when it came to him. "You can see him?" Jim asked again, wanting to be sure, "Both of them?"

                Blair nodded, "Yes, Jim. I can see him, a huge black panther that could probably rip your throat out if it wanted to and a wolf. Is the wolf yours, too? Can a person have more than one spirit guide?"

                Jim didn't want to answer about the wolf. He had an idea whom it belonged to since he already had the house cat. That really only left one other candidate for the wolf. Considering that the wolf had shown up shortly after Blair and the two fur balls had conspired to help Blair find him so soon after his escape, Jim had a very strong bet on the whole issue. He wasn’t going to admit it to Sandburg, though. Instead, he just stared at Blair, trying his best to find a way to tackle the situation. Despite all of his planning and preparation for every contingency possible, this was one he hadn’t anticipated. There had to be a way to make Blair leave, to turn around, use whatever method he had of getting there, and go back to town and let Jim continue on by himself to carve out a new life somewhere else.

                Jim blinked, how did Blair get out of town?

                “How did you get here?” Jim asked, the non-sequitor came out before he could really stop it, but he didn’t mind. It would put off the looming chat about spirit guides that he was not ready for anyway.

                “I told you, the panther,” Blair said, rolling his eyes, but Jim was already shaking his head.

                “No, no. How did you physically get here? I know the house cat didn’t give you a ride on his back.”

                “House cat?” Blair snorted, eyes going wide, “That’s what you call him?”

                Jim glared and gestured for Blair to hurry and answer. Blair grimaced and opened his mouth but another sound filtered in before he could answer. Jim held up his hand to stop the conversation, tilting his head and listening. It was the sound of a police radio and a cop reporting sighting a stolen car. Jim took a deep breath and prayed for patience. The report was coming from close by in the parking lot. He moved to the corner of the building and pressed his back against it. He could feel Blair move behind him.

                There, around the corner was a police cruiser. It wasn’t from Cascade. It was a state cruiser, but that didn’t offer any reassurance. The officer was out of the car and taking down the license number of a car parked on the side of the building. Jim didn’t need to ask, he thought he had seen the same car parked in their lot back at the apartment. Still, he opened his mouth and spoke in a hushed voice to Blair right behind him.

                “You stole a car, didn’t you?”

                “Ah,” Blair said, all the confirmation needed in that one sound.

                “You stole the doctor’s car,” Jim continued, the final piece falling into place. Blair more than likely didn’t know how to boost a car without a key.

                “Well, how was I going to follow you?” Blair asked in a rush making Jim turn around to face him.

                “You were going to stay there and pretend like you didn’t know anything about this whole thing. If you had any sense, that is,” Jim ground out. He silenced the outraged retort coming from Blair with a hard look. “Now, as it is, I’ll have to take you with for a little bit, BUT,” he added as Blair’s eyes lit up. “Only until we’re clear of the police and know they’re not blaming you for the car. Have you ridden in the car before?” There would be no reason to take finger prints of the car, but Jim didn’t want to leave anything to chance if he could help it.

                Blair thought for a moment then nodded. “The doctor gave me a few rides, but that was before I started working with the police department.”

                Jim shook his head, “Alright…It didn’t sound they mentioned your name at all over the radio. I have a police scanner in my truck. We’ll track what they’re saying until we know for sure.”

                “As we make our get away?” Blair asked, far more excited than he should be.

                “As we make our get away,” Jim agreed through clenched teeth.

                Jim turned and headed around the building. He ignored Blair following so close he almost tripped over Jim’s heels. Jim ignored the cat sauntering along him with a smug smile and deep purr running in his throat and he ignored the wolf trotting just behind the cat, tail wagging with whiplash speed and tongue lolling out one side of his mouth. He’d carry Blair as far as the next town or two and then he’d dump him. The Guide could catch a cab back to Cascade or go somewhere completely different for all he cared. As far as Jim was concerned, they had already parted ways.

 

TBC…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters are getting harder to edit as I go it seems. I hope you enjoyed it!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own the Sentinel

**Chapter 14**

                Jim paused at the front corner of the building. He could see his truck, parked just in front at the gas pump, not too far away. The cruiser was all but hidden from view around the side of the building. The trooper was squatting down checking over Blair’s stolen car. Jim pulled back out of sight again. “Alright,” he said looking at a nervous Blair, “We’re going to casually walk out, get in the truck, and drive away.”

                Blair opened his mouth but Jim cut him off.

                “There’s no reason for that trooper to suspect a random truck gassing up nearby a stolen car is involved with that car. It’s going to be fine.” Jim turned and took a step toward the corner again but pulled up short. “Shit.”

                “What?” Blair asked, eyes wide. “What is it?”

                “I still need to pay for my gas,” Jim said, reassessing.

                “Ah man,” Blair groaned, rolling his shoulders and glancing around the corner before pulling back, “Why do you even need to get gas anyway? I though you always fuel up at a quarter tank?!”

                “Generally,” Jim said.

                “So what happened?” Blair hissed. “How could you let it get that low?”

                 “Maybe because I’m human and I wasn’t expecting to have to abandon my life today, alright?” Jim snapped back in clipped tones, “Or ask your stupid wolf friend, he looked entirely too smug when the gas light came on.” Jim really thought he had gassed up his truck earlier in the week, but it didn’t matter now. He took a deep breath and shook his head. Now was the last time to let the stress get to him even if this whole situation did have every hallmark of a botched operation, and Jim had been part of some spectacularly botched operations in his career. “Getting upset is not going to change anything. This is the situation and we have to deal with it.”

                Really, the pep talk was as much for Jim as for Blair. Years of his life down the drain, everything he’d worked toward, and now he couldn’t even make a clean simple getaway. For the first time since walking into his apartment and finding the doctor there, he felt a worm of worry and doubt that he really wouldn’t get away. Jim shook it away, though. Thinking like that would get him caught faster than anything.

                “Why can’t we just leave without paying?” Blair asked, biting his lip.

                “Because that’s not suspicious at all,” Jim snarked back. “That’s the fastest way to get that cop on our trail. Ok…I’m going to walk in there and pay for gas. You go to the truck and stay there. Act normal, if the cop talks to you we’re just going out of town for a weekend camping trip. Follow my lead.”

                Jim stepped out from the corner and headed for the front door. The trooper was gone. Jim glanced up checking the corners of the building. There was only the one security camera he initially spotted on his arrival but it was ancient and clearly out of commission with a cracked lens. Blair hung back near the building corner, shifting from one foot to the other. Jim sent a look over his shoulder and hitched his head toward the truck.

                The panther followed him as Jim kept his pace slow and casual. His steps didn’t falter as he pushed through the door and walked up to the counter where the state trooper talked with the cashier. Glancing around Jim grabbed a few camping items off the shelf as well as some snacks. The trooper glanced at Jim and stepped aside so Jim could drop his purchases on the counter.

                Jim gave a friendly nod toward the cop, ignoring the tension in his gut. “I’m at pump three, too,” he said and pulled out his wallet.

                “Actually,” the cashier said, hitching a thumb at Jim, “This guy running out the back door is the only exciting thing that’s happened all day.”

                _Thanks for nothing_ , Jim thought as he pulled out a pair of twenties. “Yeah, sorry about that, my copilot gets car sick, saw him run around the back of the building and wanted to make sure he was alright.” The panther settled down next to Jim’s leg, leaning against him.

                “Oh, yeah, no problem, man,” the cashier said, waving off the apology. “It’s no skin off my nose. That’s where the bathroom is so people are going back there all the time. Here’s your change.” He handed back a couple ones and some coins along with the bag of Jim’s purchases.

                Jim turned and headed out of the store and to the truck. The trooper followed along behind him. The afternoon was steadily progressing to evening and a chill fell over everything as the sun dipped to the trees. Thankfully, Blair had made it to the truck but not soon enough to climb in before Jim came out with the cop in tow.

                “Mind if I ask you a few questions?” The state trooper asked, following Jim to the truck.

                Jim shrugged, opening the truck door and dropping his purchases inside before closing it again. “Sure, what do you need to know?”

                Behind Jim, Blair hesitated. Jim could hear Blair heart hammering away and the man gulped before coming around the truck and standing next to Jim. The wolf trotted over and pressed itself against Blair tongue lolling as he glance up to his person. It helped calm Blair’s racing pulse just a tad.

                “Evening,” the trooper said nodding to Blair.

                Blair managed to nod a reply but didn’t get out a verbal greeting. Jim briefly wondered if this was Blair’s first time doing anything seriously illegal. At least the clear agitation Blair displayed with his pallid complexion backed up Jim’s car sick story. Thank heavens for small favors.

                The trooper ran his gaze over Blair the same way he had at Jim in the store. It was a sweeping assessment like only a cop could, routine, professional, but ready to react. “How long have you been here, at this rest stop?”

                “About twenty minutes,” Jim answered honestly, trying to figure the time in his head. It was much longer than he had planned on staying, but everything had conspired to hold him up and catch him in this mess. “Has something happened?”

                The trooper looked him over again, still assessing him with muted suspicion.

                Jim stuck his hand out, “Jim Ellison, I’m a detective with the Cascade PD.” Go for the friendly and helpful approach, Jim thought.

                The trooper relaxed a fraction and took Jim’s hand in a firm handshake. “George Helming,” he responded instantly friendlier than the cautious politeness of moments ago.

                Jim glanced over to Blair standing stiff shouldered with his arms folded tightly around his waist. His heart still beat like a jackhammer, despite the wolf pressing into his side. The sound threatened to distract Jim, but he pulled himself back to the parking lot and the conversation, pushing the noise into the background since getting rid of it seemed impossible. He hoped the cop attributed Blair’s nervousness for the car sickness Jim made up.  

                “My partner and I were heading out for a weekend camping trip,” Jim said, hitching a thumb toward Blair, hoping to distract the cop from his close scrutiny of Blair. “But if you need any help we could stick around for a bit. We’ll probably be setting up in the dark as it is with the late start we got.” He glanced up at the growing pinks and oranges spreading across the clouds from the setting sun.

                Trooper George Helming looked back to Jim and smiled. “Nah,” he said, waving a dismissive hand and shaking his head. “It’s just a stolen car. No damage that I can see. The thief must have dumped it when they realized it had Onstar with the GPS locater.”

                Jim nodded ignoring Blair’s increasingly pale face. The panther moved around to Blair’s other side and leaned against him with the wolf.

                “Are you alright?” the cop asked Blair giving him a squinted eye look again, though with more concern than suspicion.

                “Like I said, car sick,” Jim said with a roll of his eyes and a vaguely disgusted tone in his voice.

                Blair shot him a grimace before obliging the story by tightening his arm around his stomach and bringing the other over his mouth. “I think it’s food poisoning,” he mumbled through his fingers.

                “That wouldn’t be surprising either considering the grass you call food,” Jim remarked before pointing an accusing finger at him. “You’re not getting in my truck till you know you’re empty.”

                The trooper snorted, smothering a laugh at Blair’s responding glare. “Did either of you happen to see that car pull in and park to the side over there?” he asked, turning and pointing toward Blair’s stolen ride. “The one security camera is broken so anything you can give me would be a help.”

                Jim slowly shook his head, pretending to think it over. “No,” he said with all honesty, he had been inside when Blair had arrived, after all, “we were a little busy at the time.” He gave another pointed look at Blair.

                Helming nodded disappointed, “I understand, sister of mine gets the same way. Well, thanks anyway. I’ll be inside talking with the cashier some more if you think of anything.” He turned and walked back into the store.

Jim let out a breath of relief. Part of him was surprised it worked while other part knew there really was no reason for the state trooper to suspect them. Blair looked like he would wilt with relief, shoulders sagging and letting out a long breath. The two spirits looked indifferent. Jim shook out his key and opened his truck door.

                “Good job, Chief,” Jim said with a nod and a little pride, “I almost thought you were car sick myself.”

                There was silence behind him making Jim turn around. Blair still looked just as sick as before, face pale and sweat beading at his hair line. He stood still, hand clenched before him, eyes darting between Jim and the store where the trooper had disappeared.

                “What is it? Jim asked in a low voice, worried something more was wrong.

                “I still have the keys,” Blair said, voice barely above a whisper. His eyes now fixed on the door where the state trooper disappeared.

                “Alright,” Jim said, scanning the area, “Go back to the far side of the tree line. Pretend like you’re feeling sick again. Wipe off the keys with your shirt and toss them into the woods as far as you can. Hopefully, if by some miracle they find the keys, they’ll think the mysterious car-jacker dumped them there.”

                Blair wrapped his arms around his stomach and hurried back to the side of the lot where trees met cracked pavement. The wolf trotted happily behind him and plopped down next to the Guide as Blair dropped to his knees. Jim glanced to the store before leaning into the truck and grabbing a bottle of water from the back. He walked, the panther trailing after him, toward where Blair was just visible behind the trees, hunched over on the ground.

                “Tag teaming us, huh?” Jim muttered to the cat, the annoyance was missing from his tone, though. A part of him was glad the panther was with him again, even if he’d never admit it. From the look the panther shot at him, Jim figured the fur ball already knew.

                They came up next to Blair, Jim scanned the parking lot again, satisfied that it was still deserted. Blair was using the edge of his shirt to wipe the keys clean, vigorously rubbing at the metal as though he was polishing it to a high shine. The quick, jerky movements betrayed how nervous the academic was.

                “First time stealing a car, Chief?” Jim chuckled. The stress of the situation was starting to wear on him.

                “Oh, like you’ve done it plenty of times,” Blaire groused, scowling heavily as he rubbed at the keys.

                Jim only smirked, the silence making Blair look again.

                “You haven’t, have you?” Blair asked beginning to doubt himself.

                “You’d like to know,” Jim said. His smirk turned into a full grin. He had to admit, having Blair with him wouldn’t be nearly as lonely as traveling alone and they could watch each other’s back. All four of them, Jim mused as he looked down at the two spirit guides sitting on either side of Blair and himself and steadily watching the parking lot and road with all its lack of activity. At least, that would be the case until he and Blair split paths again. Though deep down, Jim had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to just dump Blair off at the next town like he’d originally thought. He had the feeling that he was stuck with the Guide for longer than that and for some reason, that idea didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would.

                Jim glanced back at Blair still rubbing diligently at the key ring. “Alright, no need to rub the plating off,” Jim said.

                “I want to make sure there’s no finger prints,” Blair returned, but carefully took it by his shirt and threw it as far into the underbrush as possible.

                “Don’t worry, they probably won’t even find the keys,” Jim said, handing Blair the bottle of water. “Hell, I’d be surprised if they even bothered looking, not for a simple stolen car that was recovered in the same condition. This is all just a precaution in case Hedrick gets his panties in a twist and insists.”

                Blair stared at the bottle of water, a frown on his face.

                “Rinse your mouth out,” Jim said, turning away and back toward the lot, “You want to stay in character, even when you think no one’s watching.”

                “Yeah, yeah,” Blair said with a roll of his eyes, but started sloshing and spitting out water.

                Jim moved to the edge of the woods. The panther came up beside him scanning the parking lot with wide, attentive eyes. It sat tense and still, gaze returning to the road every few seconds. Jim frowned down at the cat. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked and put his hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxing slowly despite the tension leaking in from the cat. “You got what you wanted. I probably won’t be able to get rid of him anytime in the foreseeable future. I’m even starting to be glad he’s here, which is _really_ what you wanted so there’s no reason for you to be all tense… Is there?”

                The cat didn’t acknowledge him, just continued to stare stiffly down the road.

                Jim rolled his shoulders trying to block out the tension rolling in from the cat. He had a bad feeling creeping up on him and he didn’t want to think about it. He was tired of things going wrong. “Fine,” he grumbled, “be that way.”

                “Are you talking to the panther?” Blair asked coming up behind him and sipping from what remained in the water bottle.

                “Oh like you haven’t,” Jim muttered back, scrubbing his face with a hand trying to hold on to his good mood from a moment earlier, “I bet you were talking to him the entire drive up here.”

                “Not really,” Blair mumbled besides raising his voice, “Besides I never expected him to answer back.”

                Jim rolled his eyes and glanced over to Blair to make sure he was finished. “Just wait,” he said, eyes falling down to the wolf sitting by Blair’s side. He frowned as he saw the mutt sitting upright and tense, ears perked and listening. That couldn’t be a good sign. He frowned and turned back to the parking lot just in time to see another car pulling into the lot. A second look made Jim’s stomach drop and the breath freeze in his chest.

                The markings were clear and easy to read, especially since he immediately zoomed in on the seal emblazoned large on the side doors. “Guide and Sentinel Center Security” was written in large letters arching over the seal and across the front hood of the car. Though he’d only seen him once, Jim easily recognized Dr. Hedrick sitting in the front seat along with two of the GSC’s security guards, one driving and the other in the back. Jim’s blood run cold. If Hedrick talked to the cop it was over. He stood, not daring to move and draw attention, as he watched the car pull in and park on the side next to Blair’s stolen car.

                Blair said something behind him, but Jim wasn’t listening. He was frantically trying to think what he could do next and nothing was coming to mind. Jim’s truck was sitting right there for all the world to see closer to the security guards than Jim. The doctor knew who had taken his car. All he needed to do was walk into the store and tell the state trooper who he suspected of having stolen his car. Trooper Helming would have no choice but to bring Blair in for questions and Jim with him, it was procedure.

                But the doctor wouldn’t have to stop there, he had two of the GSC security guards with him. He could have them bring Jim into the GSC for tests based on his suspicions and for “health concerns”. Jim had seen it done. He clearly remembered the night his neighbor had been taken away, protesting loudly and at the top of his lungs. Jim had never seen or heard from his neighbor again.

                The only chance Jim could see was getting to the truck and slipping away before anyone could notice. They could put distance between them and the gas station then dump the truck and find an alternate means of transportation.

                “Blair,” Jim said, watching the two guards get out of the GSC car, look over Helming’s car, then head into the store. Hedrick moved out of sight, checking over his car in greater detail. “Move, quickly. We’re going to get in the truck and drive away.”

                Jim only made it a few long steps, convincing his numb legs to hurry, when Hedrick rounded the corner and spotted him. They both stopped dead in their tracks, eyes locking onto one another. Jim felt the blood drain from his face and the breath leave his lungs. For a moment, they just stood staring at one another. Then, a triumphant, almost predatory grin spread across Hedrick’s face and Jim heard the doctor mutter under his breath, “Got you.”

                Any and all plans Jim had made for getting to the truck and slipping quietly away shattered. He was out of options. Any civil resolution ended with him and Blair down at a police station answering questions. Jim cursed and took the last chance to get away he could see in that instant. He ran. 

* * *

                For a moment, Blair wasn’t entirely sure how it all shattered so quickly. One moment they were talking normally, the tension from dealing with the state trooper finally bleeding away when Jim froze.

                “Jim? What’s wrong?” Blair asked.

                When Jim didn‘t answer Blair looked down to the spirit guides that were flanking either side, but both panther and wolf were fixed in the same tense stance as his friend.

                “Blair,” Jim said, just as Blair caught sight of the GSC security guards and Hedrick, “Move, quickly. We’re going to get in the truck and drive away.” Jim started moving even before he finished speaking.

                So they were making a getaway in the truck. Made sense, Blair didn’t know how they were going to talk their way out of it once Hedrick started talking to the state trooper. Looks like his earlier visions of the evening ending in a car chase was still going to happen.

                Then, suddenly, Hedrick came into view. Everyone froze for a moment and Jim spun and took off into the woods at a dead run. Blair cursed, just missing grabbing onto Hedrick as the man shot past him. Blair tore after Jim and the Doctor, diving into the woods and dodging trees, right behind the two.

                The terrain turned rough, rocks and roots poking through leaves that hid the uneven forest floor. The ground angled upward in an ever-steepening slope, a preview of the mountainous landscape miles down the road. The light of the dropping sun cast long shadows through the trees. Blair could barely keep sight of the doctor as he dodged through the trees. He had lost all sight of Jim. The leaves and branches blocked the way ahead and clawed at Blair’s arms and face. He could hear Hedrick crashing before him over his own rough breathing.

                The rush of adrenaline brought on by the chase pushed Blair forward, despite his burning lungs and racing heart. He dimly thought how very screwed they were the moment the GSC showed up at the gas station. They were probably more screwed than he realized if Jim considered taking off into the woods the best option. The train of thought was brought to an abrupt halt, however, when Blair took a wrong step. He stumbled over the uneven ground and tumbled to his knees. He was only down for few seconds, hands catching his fall and scraping painfully over the dirt rocks, before he was up again and back on the chase.

                Blair cursed. He tried to keep up, unsure of what would happened when they all finally ran out of energy to run anymore, but found himself slowly lagging behind. His ankle and knee protested painfully from the continued use.

                A few more minutes and Blair couldn’t see any sign of the doctor or Jim. Only the faint sound of leaves rustling and branches snapping gave the chase away. The noise was soon lost beneath Blair’s ragged breath. He stumbled to a halt, placing both hands on his knees as he bent over to reclaim his breath. He winced at the pain in his knee, already coming more to the fore of his awareness. He pushed it aside, cursing his luck and his inability to help Jim at the moment. How he would do that he wasn‘t quite sure. It seemed like he caused more harm than good, botching Jim’s get away after making it necessary in the first place.

                Blair didn’t let that thought deter him, though. As soon as he gained his breath back he straightened up and took off, limply jogging again in the direction the two had gone. A ghost of gray between the trees caught Blair’s eye and he recognized the wolf. It glanced back toward him before moving forward again at an urgent pace. Blair clenched his teeth and increased his speed to keep up. It was only a couple minutes when he heard the a shriek of pain cut through the trees. Blair immediately forgot the pain in his leg and increased his pace.

                Blair burst out of the woods, coming out into a relatively clear area. The ground leveled out before cutting off in a sheer drop to one side. The shadows in the trees immediately ended, as well, and the setting sun bathed the clearing in orange light. Blair’s eyes immediately focused on to Jim, laying on the ground and twitching with convulsions, pistol lying uselessly next to him. In an instant Blair went from confusion to realization. Jim was being shocked by a taser, a grim-faced Dr. Hedrick on the other end.

                “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Blair cried in alarm, momentarily frozen in horror.

                Hedrick shot a glare at Blair as the shock finally ended leaving Jim panting and twitching on the forest floor. “I could ask you the same thing!” he said, anger and betrayal in his voice, “You know what’s at stake here, Blair! Or maybe you don’t. His kind can’t be allowed to put themselves at risk, there’s too few of them as it is.”

                “And keeping him safe is attacking him with a _taser?”_ Blair retorted his eyes wide with shock unable to see the pattern of logic.

                “The shock won’t hurt him permanently,” Hedrick waved a hand dismissing Blair’s concern, “and this isn’t about the preference of a single individual. It’s about preserving an entire race. Sentinels are going extinct. The only way to stop that is to look after the welfare of the group as a whole. We can’t in good conscious allow any one Sentinel put themselves at risk by exposing themselves unaided to the contaminants of modern pollution.”

                “I don’t believe this, a fucking monologue,” Jim swore through clenched teeth and deliberately measured breathes. His limbs shook as he pushed himself upright. “I should have shot him when I had the chance.”

                Next to Jim the panther was crouched down, a dangerous predator cornered and ready to strike back. It snarled at Hedrick, the angry sound mixing with growls from the wolf, standing near Blair, though the doctor couldn’t see or hear the spirits. The taser leads were still clamped on Jim’s chest. Jim reached up to pull them off and Blair moved to help him, but they both froze when Hedrick called, “STOP.” The man raised the taser higher in the air, finger tense over the trigger, the threat implicit.

                “This is insane!” Blair said, hands apart as he tried to reason with the man. He didn’t know what a taser could do to a Sentinel, but it couldn’t be healthy, despite what Hedrick said. Jim’s face was twisted in pain and his breathing harsh as he glared at Hedrick. “This isn’t helping. Besides, you can’t just force people to accept your help if they don’t want it.”

                “Do you want to be explaining to your grandchildren why there used to be people called Sentinels with amazing abilities, but that they died out because we didn’t take care of them properly? That’s what we’re headed towards!” Hedrick threw back, his voice insistent one arm thrown wide. “Society’s already suffering because people like _him_ chose to be selfish.”

                “You can’t sacrifice an entire demographic of people for the sake of society!” Jim rasped, his voice loud in the otherwise quiet clearing. There was no discernible wind at the moment, though the clouds high above scudded across the sky. Jim glared at Hedrick, his words seeming to echo in the silence that followed.

                “We’re not sacrificing anyone,” Hedrick denied shaking his head, “We’re protecting the future.”

                “Bullshit!” Blair and Jim growled at the same time.

                Blair wasn’t aware of any deliberate signal, but both he and Jim moved at the same time. Jim snatched at the leads from the taser just as Blair threw himself at Hedrick. Hedrick pulled down on the trigger and sent Jim convulsing again just as Blair slammed into the doctor. They fought over control of the weapon, jarring each other off balance. Hedrick jammed his elbow into Blair’s midsection and Blair responded by knocking Hedrick off his feet. The taser flew from Hedrick hands but the man grabbed Blair and dragged him down as well.

                They rolled across the leaves trying to get the upper hand. Hedrick flailed for the lost taser and Blair trying to prevent his finding it. From nearby, Blair heard Jim shout something, but couldn’t make it out in the midst of his own fight. The wolf nearby barked and he felt its jaws clamp down on his leg. He cried out more from surprise than pain and jerked back.

                The movement pushed Hedrick away and the doctor cried out before he plummeted away. Blair stared in confusion at first, then he realized in their struggle they had rolled to the edge of the cliff. He looked at the point where Hedrick had been just a moment before, then scramble over to the edge peering over far enough to see the doctor. It wasn’t far to the bottom. But the large rocks scattered across the ground made the fall dangerous. In Hedrick’s case it had been fatal if the angle of the neck and other limbs were to be believed. Blair felt Jim come up behind him and the wolf come to his other side. He couldn’t take his eyes off the body of Dr. Hedrick, though, shock numbing him to anything else.

 

TBC…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to get the last two chapters up before Easter. Happy Easter!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own the Sentinel.

**Chapter 15**

Jim looked over the edge at the twisted body of Dr. Hedrick. It wasn’t that far of a fall, not really, maybe twenty feet. People fell from greater heights and survived. The rocks at the bottom, however, destroyed any chance of landing safely. Jim could tell even without his heightened sight that the man’s neck was broken.

                Jim had never been a man to revel in death. Out of necessity and duty he’d killed men while in the army and again while in service of the police force. He didn’t like it, but he understood it. This time, however, while staring down at the twisted and crooked neck, the wide staring eyes, and surprise etched face, Jim felt only an immense wave of relief sweep through him. Hedrick was gone without anyone having to commit murder. Depending on what and who the doctor spoke with between the apartment and now, the main danger to both him and Blair might be gone, or they could face murder charges.

                Jim ran a hand down his face. He was still hurting from the taser. A headache was throbbing across his forehead and his muscles still twitched minutely beneath his skin. He would be sore later. The taser was stronger than the regulation ones they trained and used for the PD. Hopefully, the shocks wouldn’t result in any backlash from his senses. If the growing headache was an indication, though, he was probably heading toward a nasty spike.

                No matter what Jim was going through physically, Blair was going to go through worse emotionally.

                Jim glanced down at the man kneeling at the edge of the drop, hands propping him up and looking down over the ledge. Blair was motionless, with the look of a man who couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Shock, Jim thought. He could hazard a guess that Blair probably hadn’t been in a fight that went anywhere past the use of words much less resulted in the death of someone he knew, a colleague if not a friend. He reached down and took Blair by the shoulder and pulled him away from the edge. He drew the Guide back closer to the edge of the woods. The wolf followed them, taking up a position next to Blair when they had finally stopped.

                Jim looked at the dog and pointed a finger to Blair, “Stay and watch him.”

                The wolf just sniffed then sneezed as if to say, “You had to ask?”

                Jim scooped up his pistol and settled it back in the holster. Turning back to the edge, Jim moved to join the panther which was still peering over the edge looking at the body. It looked up to Jim, a glint in its bright blue eyes as it licked its chops.

                Jim rolled his eyes and said in a low voice so Blair couldn’t hear, “You’re a spirit, you don’t even eat.”

                The panther growled a bit but cocked his head to one side. Jim looked up toward the way they’d come, there were footsteps heading their way as well as voices. The sounds wavered in and out, probably courtesy of the after effects of the blasted taser. It was difficult to tell how close the sounds really were. He had to come up with an explanation and fast.

                They couldn’t hide the body, there was no time. There were clear signs of a struggle so a straight accident was out of the question. Night was quickly descending and the day light was nearly gone. There was no way anyone would be able to effectively search the area in the night. “Carjacker…” Jim trailed off thinking quickly. He glanced over at the panther hovering at the edge of the clearing, barely visible against the shadows. Maybe Blair’s amateur auto-theft would help them out.

                The sounds grew louder, enough that even Blair could hear them, drawing the other man out of his shock. “Jim…” Blair said the worry plain in his voice.

                Jim just shook his head and added in a low voice, “Let me do the talking. Follow my lead.”

                Not a moment after he had spoken the two guards from the GSC burst from the trees, closely followed by Trooper Helming. They had flashlights to cut through the gloom of the forest, though the lights would soon be needed for the clearing, as well. Helming swept the scene with the profession eye of a trained cop, staying out of the center of everything until he knew what was happening. The other two security guards didn’t have the same reserve and immediately moved into the clearing, one going near Blair and the other to the cliff where Jim was standing. The man looked over and his light fell on the doctor’s broken and lifeless body where it lay in the shadow of the cliff. He looked from the body to Jim, suspicion thick in the brown eyes.

                “He’s dead!” the guard said, half surprise and half accusation.

                “I’ll go down and check on him,” the other guard said, heading along the edge to find a way down.

                Helming moved swiftly to their side and shone his own light at the doctor. He looked up to Jim with a stern question, waiting for an explanation. “What happened here?” Helming asked, his voice back in the business tone of a cop on duty.

                “He fell,” Jim said, shook his head. Time to put on an award-winning performance. “I saw a man down at the parking lot, behind the building, and thought he looked suspicious, maybe your carjacker. When I tried to get the man’s attention he bolted so I chased after him. My partner and the doctor here followed me. I almost lost track of him but when I got into this clearing he jumped me. There was a fight, Blair and the doctor came in a moment later. The doctor tried to shoot him with a taser he had but hit me instead. The suspect turned on him and Blair and during the scuffle the doctor went over the cliff. Unfortunately, the suspect got away in the confusion and with me on the ground from the shock. He ran off into the trees, probably long gone by now.”

                Throughout the story Helming weighed up what Jim said and the evidence immediately visible around him. He swept his light over the darkening clearing, looked over at Blair still in shock, and peered down the cliff to the body. Though Jim’s eyesight was wavering, too, flitting between enhanced in the fading light and normal, he had the feeling the trooper was buying his story. The guard, on the other hand seemed to be getting angrier as the minutes passed. When Jim finally finished the guard apparently couldn’t control himself any longer.

                “You’re not seriously believing this!” he cried waving a hand at Jim.

                Helming drew his eyes off the bottom of the cliff and instead trained them on the guard. “It’s none of your concern whether I believe it or not. I don’t recall you having any authority here.”

                “You are!” the guard accused, leveling an incredulous look at the state trooper. “You’re really taking this cock and bull story he’s handing you!”

                Helming set his face and tone in a neutral expression. “I am not taking anything at the moment, not until I have more information. Unless you have an accusation to make or something helpful to add I suggest you put a sock in it and step away from this crime scene.”

                The guard and Helming stared at each other a moment before the guard cursed under his breath and stomped back to the edge of the clearing.

                Jim kept his face impassive, though the low light made the strict control of his features unnecessary. The security guard glanced at him with open suspicion, the narrowed eyes sizing him up. Jim turned his gaze fully on the guard, daring him to do something, say something, accuse something. The guard might well have an idea of what happened to the Doctor, but it seemed the Doctor hadn’t told him about what Jim was or about Blair stealing the car. Otherwise he would have said something already. It boiled down to hearsay and accusations. Jim fought a smirk, they might just get out of this yet.

                Helming nodded toward Blair, an unasked question in his eyes.

                Jim nodded, leaning closer, “He’ll be alright. Still new to the force. Hell, he’s not even a real cop, just an observer. First time dealing with something like this.”

                The trooper winced and nodded in sympathy. “Right,” he agreed quietly before speaking up again, “Well, you know the drill. I’ll need to take your initial statements and contact information. We’ll want to take photographs of any injuries you’ve sustained as well as any other evidence relevant to this incident. You both need to wait here till we give you the go ahead to leave. After that, stay close to a phone in case I need to contact you. If I don‘t call you later tonight, I‘ll definitely call you tomorrow or the next day for a follow up. He have someone to stay with him tonight?” Helming hitched a thumb at Blair.

                Jim nodded. “He’s staying with me, actually. His apartment’s getting fumigated or something like that.”

                “Good,” Helming nodded then looked back at Jim. “Sorry, weekend trip’s cancelled.”

                “Not more sorry than me,” Jim said, “The paperwork’s going to be a bitch.” He reached into his back pocket and retrieved his wallet. He pulled out a business card with his name number and department from when he interviewed witnesses and handed it to Helming. “If you need help with any of this just let me know, you have my contact info. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to take him back down to the parking lot.”

                Helming took the card and nodded. “Wait there,” he said. Jim turned and moved back to Blair, gently pulling him up by the arm. The wolf whined, only audible by the two of them. He could hear the other guard from the GSC finally reaching the bottom of the drop-off and make his way toward the body before his hearing faded out to normal again.

                “Wait!” the first guard from the GSC spoke up when he saw Jim and Blair start toward the parking lot, “You not just letting them go, are you?”

                Helming gave the man a glance, seemed to consider ignoring the question completely before replying. “They’re not going anywhere, just to the parking lot.” He turned to his radio and called for assistance with removing the body and processing the scene.

                “Doctor Hedrick’s dead and you‘re letting the two primary suspects _go_?” the guard cried, his voice rising in anger.

                Jim looked over and had to concentrate to focus in on the name pinned to the man’s shirt, Charles Grunwald. When he was finished he felt more light-headed than he had before and wondered if it really had been worth the effort just to know who the man was.

                Just like that, any semblance of nice trooper Helming was gone. “Look pal,” Helming said, a hard edge clear in his voice as he stepped up to the guard. “As far as I can see he hasn’t done anything illegal here. If the evidence shows that the Doctor’s death was anything other than an accidental homicide as Detective Ellison claims we will precede accordingly. However, at this moment I can see no reason to jump to any conclusions or listen to a rent-a-cop with opinions.”

                Grunwald glared right back, jaw working. Jim could hear his teeth grinding even with his misfiring senses. “I need to report back to the GSC,” he finally gritted.

                Helming nodded his head, “You do that, after we get your statement, contact information, and release you to leave.”

                Grunwald looked ready to kill someone as he stared between Helming and Jim, but he kept his mouth closed. Apparently, he wasn’t so sure of his position and he knew enough of his own authority that he wasn’t going to make any other demands.

                Jim looked up from where he was helping Blair. The man was white as a sheet and shaking like a leaf. “We’ll be down at the parking lot. I’ll direct backup your way when they get here.”

                The trooper nodded then said, “Be careful going down that trail. It’s dark and I don’t want to have to send out a search and rescue along with the body recovering team….or organize a man hunt. Do you need a light?”

                “If you have an extra one,” Jim said, “If not then don’t worry, we’ll find our way.”

                “Here,” Helming held out a second flashlight. “Pass it off to the recovery team when they get here.”

                “Sure thing,” Jim nodded, clicking the light on and heading back toward the parking lot. He kept one hand on Blair’s elbow and one eye on Blair while the other stayed on the uneven ground. Blair was turning a delicate shade of green, probably a reaction to the adrenaline leaving his system. Jim didn’t know what being near a violent death would do to an empath, but they were going to need to talk about it when they got back to the apartment.

                They walked in silence for several minutes. The woods were dark and quiet except for their footfalls in the underbrush. The panther and the wolf were little more than shadows of movement on either side. A few times Blair inhaled next to him as though he was getting ready to say something, but he aborted each time. Jim squeezed his arm in support.

                It was another several minutes before they could see the lights of the gas station through the trees. Jim glanced over to Blair to see how he was doing, which wasn’t very well. The man was shaky, pale and green around the edges. Blair lurched a moment before pulling himself out of Jim’s grip and throwing himself back to the forest floor to empty his stomach. The wolf sat next to him and whined in sympathy while Jim knelt behind, rubbing circles on Blair’s back as he heaved again.

                “You’re going to be alright, Chief” Jim said rubbing circles on Blair’s back and waited for Blair to feel up to walking again.

                “I’m good, I’m fine,” Blair murmured, pushing up to his feet.

                Jim shook his head. “No, you’re in shock so you’re not fine, but you will be. C’mon, we need to be down there by the time backup arrives.”

                Blair stumbled along a few steps before getting his feet under him again. They moved slowly along the path thanks to the poor light. Jim didn’t trust his vision to remain steady enough to go any faster and Blair simply wasn’t up to it. The gas station lights shone through the trees as a beacon until they reached the edge of the woods.

                Jim stepped out into the parking lot, leading Blair just in front of him. The two spirit animals followed the entire way, one on either side. When Jim reached the truck, the wolf bounded into the foot well of the front seat then set his head in Blair’s lap when the Guide settled into the seat. The panther just slinked into the back seat and lay down, looking out between the driver and passenger seats.

                Jim reached back and pulled out a spare blanket spreading it over Blair. Then he stood, leaning against the open door and the truck frame and let the last of the tension run out of his body. He kept his gaze on the road watching for the other first responders. They couldn’t be too far out. Now that he had a moment, he took a deep breath and settled the rest of the tension. His muscles ached and the adrenaline was nearly gone leaving him shaky and tired, but for the moment they were safe.

                Jim glanced over to Blair. He still hadn’t said much, didn’t seem to be taking in much of the world around him at all. Jim shook his head and turned back to the road. “You going to be alright,” he said again then winced. He remember the first time he was involved with the death of another person. It didn’t feel like things were going to be alright then. He didn’t know if Blair felt like that now.

                Blair slowly turned to look at him, some of the green was gone, but he was still pale and shaky.  “Geeze, Jim, what he did to you. He could have _killed_ you….and what he wanted to do. I’m not sure which is worse…why didn’t you…you had your gun out.”

                “You’re wondering why I didn’t shoot him,” Jim finished for Blair.

                Blair nodded. “You had the gun out, why not just shoot him?”

                Jim heaved a sigh. “I could say it was because I didn’t want the gunshot to draw attention before my big escape, but…I was just slower to the draw. I didn’t want to kill him, despite what he wanted to do to me and I hesitated. He didn’t. He beat me to the draw.” He shrugged again, feeling tired, “It happens if you’re not fully committed to kill another person. I have enough blood on my hands. I didn’t want anymore.”

                There was another moment of silence before he spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper and tears leaking from his eyes, “I killed him.”

                “Not intentionally,” Jim said equally quiet. Trying to deny outright it wouldn’t help in the long run, it would probably only make the hurt last longer, but diverting the guilt might help. Blair wasn’t in the state to listen to the facts of the situation right then. They’d take care of that when they got back to the apartment and had a drink in their hand, preferably something strong.

                Jim clapped one hand on Blair’s shoulder and the wolf whined softly. The panther only looked on with the silent blue eyes, but Jim thought he could see a measure of satisfaction in its expression. He shook his head and turned back to the road.

                Jim glanced over to Blair’s dark figure again. They just needed to get through some questioning and maybe photographs then he’d be able to take Blair home. He’d take care of Blair like the Guide had taken care of him when he was sick after the hostage situation. Then Jim would help him through coming to terms with what happened to Hedrick. Jim wasn’t the best when dealing with trauma, but he’d experienced enough in his life to know the basics.. It was what friends did for one another and he actually found he was looking forward to it. He didn’t like the circumstances that brought it about, but having a friend to look after and to look after him? Jim was grateful for that. Jim didn’t need or want a keeper, but he’d take a friend.

 

 

The End….for now

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, as I said at the beginning of this story, I wrote and posted this a number of years ago. The danger of dusting off some of your old stories is that you generally have to read them. That can bring good and bad surprises. I think I've grown as a writer since posting this story. Certainly if I wrote this story now I probably would have done some things differently. As it is, I tried to rectify some things I didn't agree with with things I did on this second posting. Whether It's still worth a read I leave to you to decide. Thanks for giving this story a try! Hope you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this story a number of years on FFic.net and have been recently working on finishing a sequel. This story is complete. I'm just running through it for edits and to make sure there's no contradictions between this story and the sequel. Hope you enjoy!


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